Whither Thou Goest
by Becky215
Summary: The Anschluss occurs, and Georg decides that the family must escape from Austria. Though she believes that she's lost his love forever, Maria follows her heart and joins the family on a journey to love, freedom, and redemption. A/U
1. March 15, 11:00

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this work of fiction and receive no profits from this story. _

**Whither Thou Goest**

By Becky215

_"Entreat me not to leave thee, for whither thou goest I will go." -Ruth 1:16_

The ring was beautiful. There was really no other word for it. The simple silver band was weighted with diamonds and a single sapphire, and the bride-to-be marveled that she'd never seen anything so lovely. Georg replied that it reminded him of the sea, and it was true. She wore it proudly, placing her hand over his heart after he slipped it onto her finger and offering him a simple kiss that assured him of her affections.

She suggested a spring wedding. They decided to hold the ceremony at Nonnberg Abbey, and the date was set for the end of April. Two hundred invitations were delivered in short order. The finest linen paper was selected, and each envelope was hand-printed in delicate calligraphy. Their guests responded eagerly, though Georg suspected that they were curious about the woman who had finally led him out of his grief and into the living world.

It seemed that everything was falling together. The wine cellar was restocked after the last winter frost, ensuring that his favorite vintages would be on hand for the reception, and a cake much too rich for his liking had been ordered from Vienna. When he asked, Liesl assured him that the design for the wedding gown was lovely, but his fiancée teasingly reminded him that he was not to see it before the wedding day.

The wedding was only a month away when he stepped outside on a crisp March morning. The air was clear and cool, and a soft breeze stirred lazily through the trees. He was grateful for a moment's solitude but surprised to hear the distant murmur of voices as he walked across the grounds. The children were working on their studies, and nothing should have disturbed the silence on that particular spring day.

Curious, he followed the sound. He turned the corner of the house and suddenly spied Fraulein Maria with his youngest daughters. They were sitting beneath a tree, and the girls were talking animatedly with their favorite governess. He was delighted to find smiles and laughter on their lips, replacing the more sober countenances that had become too familiar in recent months. He lingered near the corner of the house, confident that he would not be detected, and watched as Marta absently plucked blades of grass from the ground.

"Will we get to go to the wedding, Fraulein Maria?"

"Of course you'll be at the wedding," Maria answered. "What sort of question is that, Marta?"

"It seems like it's only for the grown-ups."

"Weddings are for families," Maria replied, "and you are certainly your father's family. In fact, you'll be one of the highest guests of honor."

The title suited the child, and Georg stifled a chuckle as his little Marta held her head a bit higher.

"And what about you, Fraulein? Will you be there, too?" Gretl asked, cupping her cheek in her hand as she rolled the stem of a dandelion between her fingers.

The silence was palpable, and Georg suddenly realized that he was holding his breath.

"I don't know, darling. I haven't been invited yet," she answered diplomatically.

"But you're part of our family!" Marta exclaimed.

"Yes, even more than the Baroness, and she gets to be there," Gretl pouted.

Maria smiled in spite of herself. "Well, the Baroness is the bride. She has to be there. And didn't she ask you to call her 'Elsa'?"

The girls nodded soberly.

"I've never been to a wedding," Marta said. "Is it sort of like a birthday party?"

"Oh, much more important, Marta. You know that it takes place in church, and who lives in the church?"

"God," the girls replied in unison.

"That's right, and anything that happens in God's house happens with His blessing. That's what makes it so special. A wedding is a chance for two people to make a promise that they will love each other forever, and then God blesses the love they share together."

The romance of Maria's words was lost on her young audience, and Gretl simply wondered, "And will the Ba—Elsa wear a pretty white dress?"

Maria nodded.

"Do I get to wear a white dress?"

"No, darling, but I'm sure we'll find something lovely for you girls to wear. Perhaps in a pretty shade of pink," Maria winked.

The girls smiled at the notion of new pink frocks, but after a moment, the silence returned to the group. Georg noticed that she did not press them on their feelings, but rather she waited for their questions. Gretl leaned against the tree trunk, her little elbow digging into Maria's thigh, but Maria only drew the girl closer and complimented the chain of flowers dangling from her fingers.

"I hope you can come to the wedding," Marta finally concluded. "I want you to be a guest of honor, too."

"Do you want to come? Elsa might give you an invitation if you ask!" Gretl suggested brightly, but Georg saw the color slip from Maria's cheeks.

"I have not asked yet. I'll make sure that I do." She smiled to the girls before glancing up at the house. "Do you think the others have finished their schoolwork?"

"I hope so. I want to play a game," Marta said, rising to her feet with newfound purpose.

"Why don't you run ahead and see if they've finished, and I'll go see when lunch will be ready." There was no need to repeat the suggestion, for both of the von Trapp girls picked up their heels and ran towards the house with whoops of laughter.

He stepped out of sight before his daughters could discover him and lingered for a moment to watch Maria find peace with her thoughts. She collected Gretl's flower chains and considered the blossoms against her palm. The soft sunlight washed over her as she walked closer to the water's edge. She trembled slightly as the breeze delivered a chill from the lake, but she could not tear her gaze away from the endless blue of the horizon.

She was different when she came back from the Abbey. He'd noticed the change because it was impossible to ignore. The boisterous and clumsy girl who'd first entered his home had returned to it a quiet and pensive woman. If he was honest with himself, he knew that it started on the night of the ball when he held her in his arms and discovered in her eyes a love that he'd never before experienced. It was open and innocent, breathtaking in its force and simple in its beauty. In that moment, he believed that she loved him, and the naked trust of her gaze humbled his very soul.

His belief was shaken when he woke the following morning to discover that she'd returned to the Abbey. He was angry with himself for believing that Maria might have cared for him, but more than that, he was frightened by the magnitude of his own disappointment when he learned that it was not true. He punished himself for falling prey to his own imagination and steeled his resolve to forget the young woman entirely. Georg brushed away the children's questions about their beloved governess and destroyed her note soon after he read it. The children mourned her absence, casting a somber veil over the newfound happiness in the von Trapp household, but he tried to rally their spirits when he was not taking one of his countless outings into Salzburg. He spoiled Elsa with his attention, and by the end of the third week, he'd purchased a ring and asked her to be his bride.

He'd been able to forget Maria during the day, but he could not escape her at night. He lost too many hours of sleep imagining what might have happened if she had not hurried out of his embrace after they danced together. He imagined the smoothness of her cheek beneath his lips, the taste of her kisses and the sweetness of her affections. There were nights when he took refuge in his memories, savoring the remembered storm of her anger and the benediction of her kindnesses. He made love to her in his dreams, her breath hot on his shoulder and his name falling from her lips like a song. She was alive and real in his dreams, and there they belonged to each other.

He regretted that Elsa was not the woman who appeared in these nightly fictions, just as he lamented the fact that Agathe had finally been released from her prison behind his mind's eye. One day he would confess that he'd secretly looked forward to falling asleep each night, for only then could he discover Maria once again, but with each breaking dawn he understood nothing but a breed of guilt that danced traitorously with desire.

He fought for command of his emotions until that day when he heard a sudden commotion from the patio. He stepped outside to talk with his children, but the first thing he saw was a shock of golden hair. Maria was there, encircled by the joyful smiles of the children, and he was struck that his first thought should be that she was finally _home_.

Two months had passed since her sudden departure from the villa, but he was instantly aware of his need for her. She congratulated him on his engagement, smiling as she spoke, but she would not meet his gaze. He was desperate to rediscover that remembered flame of love in her eyes, but she would not grant him the opportunity to search for it.

The children ran ahead for their dinner, and after a moment's pause, Elsa followed them inside. Alone on the veranda, Georg softly asked, "Are you finally here to stay, Fraulein?"

He could not have known how that simple question tore at her heart. She fought her tears and drew a breath. "I will stay until your wedding, Captain, and of course I'll assist in making arrangements for a new governess. Then I'll return to the Abbey where I belong."

She walked away before he could reply, but he would not have had an artful response. He lingered outside in the fading sunlight, haunted by the distant laughter of his children as he mourned the loss of something that had never been his to begin with.

Maria had been true to her word. She stayed with the family through the holidays and into the welcome warmth of springtime, but she spent most of her time in the children's company. She was noticeably quiet whenever Elsa discussed the wedding, and Georg realized that the familiar melody of her singing was now only a hazy memory. He wanted to understand the science of this transformation, but he was afraid of what he might learn. He was a man of honor, and he knew that the promises he'd made to Elsa were ones that simply must be kept.

Nonetheless, the strength of his resolve could not prevent him from admiring her on this particular afternoon as she worried those delicate flowers in the palm of her hand. He knew that he ought to look away, for he was studying her in an intimate moment of vulnerability, but he was powerless to stop looking at her. She was beautiful. She lacked Elsa's elegance, and she was not as striking as Agathe, but she was undeniably beautiful. The sunlight complemented her skin, just as the flush of exercise and excitement kissed her cheeks, and the curve of her smile was like a priceless jewel. She was different, and because of that, she was lovely.

He admired her and wondered about his own heart. He felt something for her. That was certain. He desperately hoped that it was mere lust or desire. Those simple sins faded with time and cracked with age, but he feared that this was something deeper. He did not have the luxury of falling in love, and he worried that his heart had forgotten about its obligations.

"Oh, there you are, darling!"

Elsa's voice carried over the lawn like a siren, arresting the attention of both Maria and Georg. The young woman by the water looked up suddenly and discovered that the Captain was watching her as he stood next to the house. For one brief moment, he saw surprise and longing on her features before shock and sadness prevailed. She pressed her hands to her thighs and smoothed her skirt with a polite nod of her head before hurrying across the lawn to look after the children. He watched her go and realized how quickly his heart was racing.

Elsa's heels clicked against the pavement, and finally he felt her arm slip through his as she pled for his attention.

"Now what are you doing out here?"

"Just admiring the day," he replied, smiling thinly with a glance towards the water. "It's a beautiful morning."

"It is," she nodded. "I simply had to come and see what had stolen your attention. You said that you would only be away for a few moments."

He tried to remember what errand he'd left her company to complete, but she recognized the confusion in his eyes.

"You were going to ask Frau Schmidt for the florist's telephone number."

"Of course," he said, clasping her hand and turning away from the water without a second glance. "I should have it in my study."

They walked slowly into the house, talking blithely about the day's menu of activities, but Georg was startled by the empty silence that greeted them in the drawing room.

"Where do you suppose everyone has gone?"

"I don't know, my dear. Frau Schmidt was talking about lunch, and-"

He raised a finger to silence her, for he imagined that he heard the distant and curious sound of applause. Elsa let her hand slip out of his hold, and he crossed the foyer in easy strides before reaching the door to his study. The sound was louder at the threshold, and he wondered who had dared to enter the sanctity of his private office.

When he opened the door, he intended to catch the culprit by surprise, but no one seemed to notice his sudden entrance. All of the children were seated on the floor, their faces turned towards the radio, and Frau Schmidt stood anxiously in the corner with her fingers pressed to her lips. There was no announcer or speaker on the radio; it was only the sound of thunderous applause.

He searched the room for an explanation, but finally his eyes fell upon Maria. Her white-knuckled hands gripped the sides of his mahogany desk, and hot tears slipped over her cheeks. She was the one who noticed his presence in the room, and he was heartbroken by the tragic sorrow in her eyes.

"It's coming from Vienna," she explained softly. "They said that the Germans entered the city this morning."

She said something more, but he did not hear it. He heard nothing but the sounds of ecstasy pouring from the radio. His countrymen were cheering for Hitler, and the horrifying noise of their enthusiasm was deafening.

_Author's Note: 1) The title, as indicated above, is from the Book of Ruth. 2) I'm settling in for the first multi-chaptered story I've written in a very long time, so I hope you'll join me for the ride. 3) You may have noticed that I took a few liberties with the film's timeline here; Maria was scheduled to work for the family through September, but the Anschluss occurred in March. Please forgive my historical elasticity, and enjoy the coming installments of this story. –C. _


	2. In Search of a Crowbar

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this work of fiction and receive no profits from this story. _

The days were different in the weeks that followed. Salzburg, like Vienna, was occupied by German troops, but many in the city described it as liberation. Scarlet flags bearing the swastika hung over every door, and the clipped rhythm of the soldiers' marching echoed throughout the city.

Two weeks after the Anschluss, Maria had hurried across town after taking the children to school. She'd hoped to collect some pastries from her favorite bakery, but she was unprepared for the scene that greeted her. The glass storefront of the bakery had been decimated; shards of glass littered the pavement, and the jagged edges remaining in the window framed a somber picture of destruction. Every item in the shop had been overturned or smashed to pieces, and violent words were scrawled on the walls in bright red paint. The Star of David was painted on the brick surrounding the bakery, and she suddenly realized that the holy symbol was being used as a threat against the shopkeeper she considered a friend.

That was her last visit to Salzburg. When stories of arrests and interrogations became more frequent, the Captain put a stop to her former routine of walking the children to school and chose instead to drive them into town each day. She trusted his judgment. After all that she'd seen and heard, she knew that Salzburg was no longer safe for anyone.

On one particular Tuesday, she was rewarded by the familiar sound of car doors closing in the driveway. The children were home from school, and she hurried from her seat to greet them. She noticed that they were quiet as they walked into the house, and she could not ignore the nervous glances they cast at one another.

"What on earth is the matter?" Maria asked, placing her hands on Kurt and Louisa's shoulders.

The simple question empowered them to speak, and Brigitta's eyes were full of tears when she finally explained that a photograph of Herr Hitler had been posted in her classroom. "We have to salute it now, Fraulein," she said sadly. "I know how Father feels about him, and based on all that I'd read about the man, I simply couldn't stand up and say a pledge to him."

"What happened?"

Brigitta said nothing in response, but her silence was all the explanation that Maria needed to understand what had happened. She studied the girl's tears and tried to imagine how difficult it must have been to bear her friends' vicious sneers.

"You're very brave, Brigitta. You know that it takes a special person to stand up for what they believe in, and you did that today."

"That's not why she's upset," Louisa interjected. "It's because of what they've been saying about Father."

Maria glanced at Marta and Gretl. They shifted awkwardly on their feet; they knew that the adults in their world were angry and frightened, but they could not understand why. Maria recognized the anxiousness in their eyes as they weighed the implications of Louisa's tone. Smiling gently, Maria knelt before the littlest children and suggested that they seek out Frau Schmidt for a sweet.

"But we're not allowed to have candy after school," Gretl said warily.

"Tell her that I said it's just what the doctor ordered. I'm sure she'll make an exception," Maria winked. The girls likely realized that they were being dismissed, but they did not object. Maria waited until the echo of their footsteps faded into silence before turning back to Brigitta. "What did they say about your father, darling?"

"It isn't just Brigitta's classmates," Friedrich explained. "It's everyone. They say that Father's a traitor."

"And that he'll be arrested just like everyone else who doesn't support Herr Hitler," Louisa added. She placed a protective hand on Brigitta's shoulder as the younger girl wiped away her tears.

The force of this revelation stunned Maria. If she paused to think for only a moment, she would have realized that these cruel whispers were inevitable in this political climate, but her heart and her mind were racing.

"There's something else," Liesl continued. "One of Marta's teachers hasn't been in school for four days. They told the little ones that she's taken ill, but I heard a few people say that her family was arrested when they tried to leave the country last weekend."

Maria looked at their faces. She saw their fear. It was raw and wild in their eyes, hungry for truth and reason from a world that suddenly lacked in fairness. She felt that same sense of horror, but she finally found her tongue and asked if they'd spoken to Georg about these developments. Kurt explained that they'd shared the same news with their father on the way home from town. Maria sighed before gently asking why they had waited so long to reveal what was happening.

The children said nothing for a moment, but then Brigitta tearfully replied, "We thought it might get better."

The disappointment in her voice was devastating. Maria drew a breath and assured them all that they'd done the right thing in sharing these stories with their father. She welcomed the children into her arms, and they clung to her tightly. A few of them whispered their private fears in her ear, confident that they could trust her and faithful that she could somehow make everything better. She was humbled by their love but overwhelmed by the responsibility. No simple song could conquer the terrors that now lived and breathed among them. Stronger stuff would be needed, but in the small scope of that moment, she could only offer the warmth of her embrace as comfort and hope for the future.

One by one, the children walked up the stairs to begin their homework. Maria was heartened by the sight of them leaning on each other for support. Friedrich's arm was draped over Louisa's shoulders, and Liesl's soft voice echoed like a song as she called out for Marta and Gretl. Brigitta started towards the steps, but Maria caught her hand before the child could slip away.

"I hoped it would get better, too. And it still can, you know." Brigitta nodded soberly. "Please remember what I said, Brigitta. You've been terribly brave, and I'm so proud of you. I'm sure your father is, too."

The governess' honest words seemed to cheer the girl, and a feeble smile touched her lips as she wiped away her tears and collected her schoolbooks. Maria lingered at the base of the stairs and listened to the muffled sound of the children's footsteps. She shut her eyes for a moment, content to listen to their sweet conversation as it spilled out of the nursery, but she knew that she must speak with Georg. She stepped outside to search for him, but he was neither in the garage nor on the terrace. She crossed the length of the grounds at the water's edge until she realized that he'd retreated to the gazebo.

She finally discovered him in the shadows beneath the elm tree. The pristine glass walls of the gazebo glittered as sunlight passed through the trees, but he was not admiring the tranquility of his surroundings. His head was in his hands, and Maria knew that he was torturing himself with every breath that he drew.

She hesitated before she approached him, but he'd heard the sound of her footsteps and turned to see who had discovered him. A soft smile touched his lips when he saw her, and he silently motioned for her to join him. The stone bench was cold beneath her thighs, and she shivered at its touch.

"You're cold, Fraulein."

"No," she lied. In truth, she was freezing. The day was unseasonably cool, and the crowded shade of the trees masked any warmth that the sun might have provided. He rose from his seat and draped his overcoat around her shoulders. She welcomed the warm weight of it against her body and blushingly offered her gratitude.

They sat together in silence, listening to the lazy sound of the wind threading through the trees. She knew that she should say something, but she realized that this was the first time they'd been alone together in several weeks. She selfishly contented herself with the simple fact of his presence and waited for him to speak.

"I don't know what to do about any of this," he sighed.

"I don't think anyone does," she answered sympathetically.

"They arrested the Rosens today."

For a moment, she struggled dumbly to understand what he had said. Her only thought was that the Rosens were the happy family of four who lived on the other side of the lake. Frau Rosen grew daisies in her garden, and Dr. Rosen wrote treatises on English literature when he wasn't composing laughingly terrible love poems for his wife. Their daughter was the same age as Kurt, and their son was a year older than Gretl. The Rosens were not criminals. They were not involved in politics and certainly never broke the law; they were simply the lovely family from across the lake.

"Arrested?" She whispered the word, afraid that giving it true voice would make it real. "For what?"

He shut his eyes and answered her with a question. "Don't you remember what Gretl said about Frau Rosen's necklace last month?"

Too many thoughts crowded her mind, but suddenly Maria remembered standing next to the girl as Frau Rosen welcomed the children into her home. Gretl had noticed the glint of gold in the sunlight and politely complimented the "shiny star" hanging from Frau Rosen's necklace before racing ahead to catch up with the other children.

Bile rose in Maria's throat. Her thoughts were crowded with the memories of broken glass and red paint that dripped like blood on the walls of the vacant bakery. She'd heard whispered tales of horror amongst the Captain's friends that seemed too impossible to be believed, and she'd seen the violent sights in Salzburg, but only in that moment did it all become reality.

"Where were they taken?"

"I don't know," he answered gently. "I only heard about it when I went into town to collect the children."

"How could they take them?" Maria asked, cupping her cheek in her hand as hot tears filled her eyes. "How can any of this be happening in Austria?"

"It isn't. This is not Austria." He spoke with certainty, but his voice faltered on the sweet syllables of his country's name. "It can't be."

Maria allowed his words to linger between them, but finally she asked about his conversation with the children.

"They told me what they'd heard. I don't even know what I said to them when they finished talking." He swallowed, and she noticed the gleam of tears in his eyes. "I have lost count of the times that I've spilled my blood for this country, and now I wake up each morning as a traitor."

"You mustn't believe them, Captain."

"How can I not? Whether I believe it or not, that is how my country esteems me," he sneered. "The Nazis are here, Fraulein, and this country is undoubtedly different." The bitterness fell away from his voice when he thought of his children, and he met her gaze with a defeated sigh. "I don't know how to explain this to them. I can tell them about war. Ships, guns, soldiers, and sailors. That's a war," he said, reciting the elements like ingredients in a recipe. "But to murder people who attempt to cross the border, to arrest men and women whose only offense is the blood in their veins? That's not a war. It's madness."

She wished that she knew the right thing to say, the proper chemistry of words that might set the world to right, but there was nothing to be said. Robbed of her words, she answered him with a touch, covering his hand with her own. She felt the soft sweep of his thumb against her palm, but he did not move away from her. Instead he grasped her hand, holding onto her like a promise, and they took comfort in each other's company.

"What did you tell them? When you spoke to them a few moments ago?"

"I hugged them," she answered shyly. "I told them that we were proud of them, and I listened to what they were afraid of." She met his gaze and smiled feebly. "I didn't know what else to do."

"You did the right thing," he said, pressing her hand before releasing his hold on her. She mourned the loss of his touch but tried to mask her disappointment.

"The Reverend Mother says that where the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window," Maria said, eager to fill the silence with words of hope.

"Forgive me, Fraulein, but it seems the good Lord has misplaced his crowbar."

She laughed humorlessly and drew his coat tighter around her shoulders. He was on his feet again, his hands in his pockets as he looked through the trees to the distant glimmer of the lake. "I should have seen this coming."

"You know that you couldn't have anticipated this, Captain." She spoke evenly, desperate to relieve him of the grief and guilt that burdened his heart, but he would not accept her consolation.

"It seems that I'm the only one who refused to recognize its inevitability." He discovered the stubborn frown on her face and rewarded her with a smile. "Though perhaps I was not alone in believing that Austria's goodness could prevail."

"I suppose I'm like Brigitta," she replied. Recognizing his confusion, she continued, "I asked the children why they waited so long to tell us what was happening at school. Brigitta said that they'd hoped it might get better."

Georg closed his eyes. He was humbled by the goodness of his children and wounded again by the weight of his regrets. Maria stirred him from the damning depth of his thoughts, catching his arm once again to trap him in the present. "You mustn't look back, Captain. You know that no good can come of it, especially now."

He sighed, but he knew that she was right. Turning back to the past would invite nothing but sorrow. He regretted the loss of his country just as he mourned the memory of his children's childhoods. He'd missed so many things in their young lives, and their childish innocence would soon become a victim of history. He thought of the poor Rosens and the sight of guns in Salzburg, and he regretted that the world should offer them such an ugly invitation into adulthood.

He looked at Maria. The world was falling to pieces around them, but he could not help that he was bewitched by her beauty. She studied him with a tender smile, and he wondered how lovely it might be to cast away in the ocean of her eyes.

"Fraulein, would you do something for me?"

"Of course," she answered softly.

"I want you to return to the Abbey."

She stepped away from him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I want you to return to the Abbey. As soon as possible." He saw the confusion in her eyes. "It's no longer safe here."

"It's not safe anywhere, Captain. Surely that's became clear to you today."

"You'll be protected at the Abbey."

"And you'll be here with seven frightened children, Baroness Schrader, and poor Herr Detweiler," she answered evenly. "You're losing your skill for strategy if you think that sending me away is the proper solution to this problem."

He narrowed his eyes at her insult, but when he renewed his request, she interrupted him again. "I will return to the Abbey after your wedding, just as we've planned."

"I was not consulted in the development of that 'plan,'" he snapped. "I would never have agreed to it."

She pursed her lips in frustration at his stubbornness and opened her mouth for a sharp reply, but her anger cooled when she met his gaze. She discovered the familiar shadows of fear and regret, and at once she understood the science of his motivation. He would sacrifice the happiness of his entire family to secure her safety, not knowing that she wanted only to find refuge in his embrace.

"Can we agree that there's too much anger in Austria at the moment?" she sighed. She watched as he lowered his defenses, and finally he nodded in agreement. "A truce, then?"

She extended her hand as a peace offering, and he took it, savoring the sweetness of this particular defeat. The warmth of her touch and the soft curve of her lips held his powers of logic and reason hostage. He was her prisoner, though she did not know it, and he was powerless to send her away.

"So now we're to wait for the Lord to open that damned window?"

She scowled at his profanity but kept her hold on his hand. "God's ways aren't always obvious, Captain. After all, you have to look for your life."

He weighed her words, but then he considered the woman beside him. Her eyes were shining. He'd coached his heart and begged it to forget about the foolishness of last summer. He wanted only to move on and abandon the memory of discovering love in her eyes. On this particular day, however, his heart forgot its lessons, and he fell victim to her again as they stood together beside the gazebo. He felt the brush of her fingers against his wrist and allowed himself to imagine that she loved him. "Is that why you came back?" he asked quietly.

She nodded hesitantly, stepping away from him as though a spell had been broken. They suddenly heard the distant sound of the children's voices from the terrace. Maria glanced back at the house with a reluctant smile. "It seems the children have finished their homework," she said, disgusted by the flimsiness of her own excuse. "I should go to them."

"Have you found it, Fraulein?" he asked, returning to the question she desperately wished that he'd never asked.

She shut her eyes, praying for the strength to walk away from him. She tried to remember that Elsa was waiting for him in the house. She forced herself to recall that she was an agent of God, and she begged her heart to release its hold on him. None of her efforts were successful, and she turned to him with a full heart and simply replied, "I think I have."

He had no opportunity for a response. One of the children shouted her name from the terrace. She returned his coat with an apologetic smile before hurrying across the lawn and leaving him alone with his thoughts. He was overwhelmed by the day's events and secretly frightened of the future's possibilities, but for the moment he comforted himself with the distant music of his children's laughter and the remembered grace of Maria's touch.

_A/N: 1) Thanks so much for the wonderful response to the first installment of this story. I hope this second chapter did not disappoint. I'm setting up for quite the adventure, so hold on to your hats. 2) It's been a few years since my last history class. I'm researching World War II history as I go along (and learning a lot!), but I'm also balancing a full plate of classes in school, so please forgive any historical inaccuracies. 3) You might have noticed that a few of the lines at the end of this chapter are replicated from the original gazebo scene in "The Sound of Music." Like the characters in this story, those lines of dialogue are neither my product nor property. –C. _


	3. Residenzplatz

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this work of fiction and receive no profits from this story._

Georg and Elsa postponed their wedding after the fourth week of the occupation. She hoped that their guests from abroad could travel with greater ease once the transition of power became less of a novelty, but Georg merely prayed that the nightmare would conclude before the summer's heat pushed fiery tempers to the brink of war.

A few days after the new invitations were posted, Elsa convinced Georg to take her on a holiday to Vienna. He was reluctant to leave his children, but Max volunteered to remain in Aigen and keep watch over the family. Maria also reminded him that while the world was upending itself around them, life within their gates had been remarkably dull since the Anschluss. The children were bored with their familiar scenery. Maria missed her mountain and believed that she could take the children on outings without incident, but Georg insisted that they confine their activities to the estate's sprawling grounds.

With Max's assurances and Maria's tacit reminder that disaster was unlikely to occur over the course of a single weekend, Georg granted Elsa's wish and took her back to Vienna. She instantly cheered at the familiar sights of her city, and he realized how different she was when they were away from Salzburg. She weaved her arm through his, her cheek on his shoulder as he navigated the busy streets to her townhouse, and she marveled that they should have ever stayed away for so long.

Though the city lights were beautiful, Georg saw what she would not see. Nazi flags hung from every lamppost, and tight nests of soldiers marched through Vienna. Arrests were frequent, and he heard the distant shriek of gunshots on too many occasions for his comfort. He'd been shocked when Maria told him about the destruction of her favorite bakery in Salzburg, but he was sickened by the painted slurs and threats that marred Vienna's once-beautiful facades. Elsa's smile flickered at such sights, but she seemed to forget those sober scenes after they reached her townhouse.

On their first night in the city, they attended a party at the home of the Hubermanns. The dinner was decadent, the wine was flowing, and Elsa was radiant. Georg watched as she laughed and smiled gaily over glasses of champagne. As he expected, and as he had always known, she was at home in this gilded habitat. She laughed more freely and reveled in the companionship of her friends. For his part, Georg spent most of the evening in the library, sipping brandy and listening to the conversations of others. He breathed a sigh of relief when Elsa finally collected him at the evening's end.

Her butler welcomed them home, taking their coats and asking politely if the evening had been a success. Elsa's maiden aunt stayed with them in Vienna, for Georg had insisted on a chaperone while Max remained with the family, but the old butler informed them that Frau Borden had already retired for the evening. He fetched a tray of cognac, lit the logs in the fireplace, and left Georg and Elsa to the midnight shadows of her salon.

They sat in silence for a moment, but finally Elsa's voice cut through the wall between them.

"I know that you don't like it here, Georg."

He sighed, ashamed that his discomfort should impede her obvious enjoyment of being at home once again. He opened his hands in defeat. "It's not that I don't like it, darling."

"No, you're right. It's that you detest it." She was not angry. Her words were calm and cool, delivered with a knowing smile that lacked any hint of humor. She watched the fire and sipped her drink. "I saw that you were listening to Herr Faber during dinner. What was he talking about?"

Georg paled to remember the conversation. The local newspapers heralded the German army's efforts to rid the city of its "undesirable problems." His blood ran cold whenever he read the articles, but it had been worse to hear the same sentiments discussed laughingly over the salad course at a dinner party.

"He was talking about the Nazis' efforts to remedy Austria's 'problems,'" he answered curtly. "Apparently every trouble known to man can be ascribed to the Jewish population. If I'd listened any longer, he probably would have blamed them for Agathe's death, Louisa's cold, and the weeds that trouble Frau Schmidt's herb garden."

His words were short and clipped, marred by impatience and a curious breed of anger that could not be remedied. There had once been whispers that the Nazis were arresting dissidents, but those whispers had climbed to a deafening crescendo in Vienna as the invading forces quashed their opposition. To contest their beliefs would almost certainly result in his own arrest, and as the father of seven children, Georg knew that he did not have the luxury of a younger man's impulses. Tamed only by the remembered sound of his children's laughter, he'd silently endured the grotesque words of every voice in the room, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted the metal of his own blood.

Elsa recognized his anger, but she could not understand it. She attempted to change the conversation, knowing all too well that her effort would be in vain. "They are a zealous lot…"

"Indeed."

She pressed her fingers to her brow and looked at him with pleading eyes. "I don't know what you want me to do, Georg. While I'd never met Herr Faber before this evening, the rest of the guests have been my friends since…I can barely even remember how long," she said sadly. "I know that you disagree with them, and I do, too, on most issues, but to cut them out of my life…"

Georg watched as she searched for the proper words. She leaned against the arm of the sofa, tragically beautiful in resplendent red satin. He realized that she was waiting for him to rescue her from the depths of despair and confusion, but he could offer no such salvation. He saw the gleam of his ring on her finger, but he also recalled the silver shine of tears in his children's eyes.

"You can visit them here, Elsa, and I will be at your side for every occasion. We can make as many trips to Vienna as you like, but none of those people will ever enter my home."

She wanted to contest his words, but she knew him well enough to know that he was resolute. He'd changed since the Germans took hold of Austria; he was distant and reserved, but a silent anger licked the heels of every word he spoke on the subject. She knew that he would not yield on this issue, so she merely nodded in acquiescence before complaining of a headache and retreating to her room.

He kept his promise. He escorted her to parties and remained silent when politics inevitably arose in the conversation. On their fourth trip to the city, they attended the theater. Elsa seemed to know everyone in attendance, and the trio of giddy women asked if he was anxious about his impending wedding day. The new date had been set for early June, and it seemed that half of Vienna would be traveling to Salzburg for the occasion. His response to their questions was delayed by the sudden sight of Nazi guards flanking the theater's foyer. Marjorie Brecht, a simpering woman who wore too much makeup and too little perfume, pressed Elsa's hand as she explained that one of Herr Hitler's most trusted aides was attending the evening's performance.

The crowd parted to make way for the man's progress through the theater. He strode through the crowd, dressed in his uniform with an elegant woman at his side, and he greeted the other attendees with clipped words and the Nazi salute. Elsa's confidantes blushed as he approached, and Georg watched the unnamed man place a delicate kiss on his fiancée's hand. Deafened by his anger and strangled by his silence, he failed to hear the man's name when they were introduced, just as he neglected to show the required deference to the Nazi party.

Elsa watched in horror, begging him with her ever-expressive eyes to simply do what was expected and raise his arm in a salute. She was not a fool. She knew that men had been arrested for lesser offenses, just as she knew that every eye in the theater was watching to see whether the esteemed Captain von Trapp would honor the Third Reich.

Georg's thoughts were oppressive. They pressed at the walls of his heart, purpling it with bruises that would never truly heal. He tried to breathe, but his anger was hungry for the very air that filled his lungs. It clawed at his breaths, rending them ragged on his lips, and he was robbed of his words while the Nazi officer waited for his fealty.

After a moment that felt like eternity, Elsa's trembling hand fell over his arm as she uttered a charming apology to the officer. Georg colored as she made his excuses, but he watched the look of disdain fall from the officer's face. It was replaced by a cunning smile, and the man's eyes narrowed when he simply replied, "We are all adjusting to the new order, Captain. When next we meet, you will remember yourself and this debt of respect you now owe to the Reich."

The silken threat was unmistakable. The officer bowed to Elsa and ignored Georg before proceeding through the foyer, but Georg did not wait to see what would happen next. Without preamble, he placed his hand on Elsa's waist and guided her away from her dumbstruck friends. He kept a tight hold on her gloved hand as he shouldered past the other attendees, and finally they emerged on the street outside the theater. The cool air washed over them as a soft spring shower fell beyond the awning of the marquee. Elsa hugged her elbows and asked, "What are we to do now?"

He did not answer her. Instead he turned to the valet and ordered his car, and within moments they were driving through the streets of Vienna at twilight. She soon realized that they were leaving the city, and with a sinking feeling she knew that it would be a very long time before they ever reeturned.

On a pleasant day, the drive to Salzburg was charming. Georg knew the quieter roads that curled through the mountains and along the various lakes of the Austrian countryside. In the peak of springtime, the trees and flowers grew lovelier with each kilometer, and the long and winding road would seem golden as the sun fell behind the hills at twilight.

On this particular day, however, the journey did not match its precedent. The birds were quiet, and the clouds of a recent storm smeared the fading sunlight across the horizon with little artistry. The road was muddy, and darkness fell sooner than Georg had anticipated.

They barely spoke during the car ride. As they drew closer to Salzburg, Georg finally glanced at Elsa from the corner of his eye. A lock of hair had fallen from her chignon, and he realized that it was the first time he'd ever seen her in any sort of disarray. The golden curl caressed her shoulder, and he touched it with his finger as a silent gesture of apology.

Elsa enjoyed the warm brush of his touch against her flesh, but she could not stop the words that finally fell from her lips. "You'll have to salute them eventually, Georg. You must accept that this is the way it has to be." It was the wrong thing to say. His hand fell away from her, and the silence between them screamed hoarsely for their attention. "I know that you disagree with them, but…I was frightened at the theater. You've heard what they do to those who disagree with them."

"So the solution is to simply give them control of everything? Of our country, our people, and the very thoughts in our heads?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"That's what everyone is saying, and yet no one objects. We've surrendered our freedom and our values, and we no longer care when our neighbors are snatched from their homes. All of this happens under the watch of our 'noble conqueror,' but we should do nothing because this is the 'way it has to be.'"

She listened to him speak, and she wished that he would shout. The words were more frightening when they came from his lips at an even cadence. Only then could she see the hypocrisy of the world around them. The truth made her blanch, but she was even more ashamed by the paralyzing grip of her own fear.

"You've said it yourself, Georg. You have seven children. Would you make them orphans by objecting to the Party? They'd…they would kill you without hesitation, and you know it." She watched him wash his hand over his face. Twilight had settled over the countryside, and she could only see the shadows of his movements. "There are sacrifices to be made, darling. Surely you can see that."

He started to respond, but he was distracted by the distant glow on the horizon as they approached Salzburg. Elsa must have noticed it, too, for she leaned forward with a curious frown. "What do you suppose that is?"

He was too afraid to guess, but he kept to his course and navigated the car through Salzburg. People filled the streets, running and laughing and shrieking as they hurried towards the plaza in the center of town. Elsa wondered aloud if someone was hosting a festival, but Georg somberly realized that this was something different. He stopped the car and wordlessly reached for her hand, and together they joined the sea of people hurrying towards Residenzplatz. A young boy stepped on the train of Elsa's emerald evening gown, and he breathlessly apologized before running ahead to catch up with his friends.

Georg and Elsa walked slowly. They heard the rising sound of cheers and chanting, but when they finally entered the plaza, they could look at nothing but the flames.

The scarlet fire licked the marble pavement before reaching up to the heavens. The smell of smoke and sweat was thick in the air. Elsa clung to Georg's hand and pointed to the children standing next to the flames. Their arms were filled with books, and they cried out the titles of each volume before hurling them into the flames.

Georg was shoved to the side as a woman raced past him. Her arms were filled with books, and she listed the authors as she tossed them into the fire. Georg paled when he recognized that many of the names were Jewish, but he was sickened when he realized that he was not surprised.

He tried to take in the scene, but there were too many voices and a sea of faces. He recognized some of his friends and the parents of his children's classmates. Soldiers stood in tight formation around the plaza. Rifles were strapped to their backs, and ferocity of their applause made the metal tremble against their shoulders. Hitler's name rose over the crowd like a song, and a group of boys bearing wheelbarrows arrived with more fodder for the flames. The crowd surrendered to the passion of its enthusiasm, and their applause grew louder as the fire turned words into ash.

Georg's eyes stung from the blaze. He imagined that Hell would bear similar shadows, and he was certain that the memory of those hoarse cries would follow him to his grave. He reached for Elsa's hand; she was spellbound by the fire, her mouth open as if to ask some silent question that would never be answered. Tears pricked her eyes, but she followed him when he walked away from the congregation.

The streets were quieter when they returned to the car. The people of Salzburg were gathered around the fire, and those who abstained were likely locked behind closed doors. Georg opened the car door for his fiancée and wordlessly resumed the journey back to Aigen. They did not resume their earlier conversation. There was nothing left to be said.

The villa was dark when they arrived. It was after nine o'clock, and after taking in his own appearance and the status of Elsa's gown, Georg was grateful that his children were in bed. His white dress shirt was marred by flecks of ash, and the cold kiss of sweat clung to his flesh as they approached the front door.

They were quiet as they entered the house, but Frau Schmidt must have detected the sound of their arrival. She greeted them in the foyer, smiling brightly before observing the disarray of their attire.

"Were you in town?"

"You've heard?"

"It's on the wireless," she replied. "Is it…is it as bad as it sounds, sir?"

"Worse," Elsa replied on his behalf.

"How is everyone here?" Georg wondered.

"More than fine, Captain. The children are already asleep. They had a very busy day."

"I trust my rule about remaining on the grounds was followed?"

"Yes, yes," she replied, raising her hands with an understanding smile. "They spent the day working on their studies before taking the little boat onto the lake."

Georg was impressed that Maria had managed to follow his instructions. He asked after Max and was informed that his old friend was in the study.

"Can you ask Franz to take the car to the garage?" he asked, plucking his gloves from his hands and dropping them onto the table. Frau Schmidt did not answer the question. "Frau Schmidt?"

"I believe that Franz is in town," she answered hesitantly. Georg recognized the anxiousness that burdened each syllable, and from that he divined the true reason for Franz's absence. He imagined his butler in the ring of celebrants at Residenzplatz and shuddered to think that the enemy had been in his house all along.

"I'll speak with him in the morning," Georg answered thinly.

"Of course, sir. Are your bags in the car? I can have someone carry them up to your rooms."

"No," he replied. "We left rather suddenly, as I'm sure you can see."

Frau Schmidt made no judgments, but merely nodded her head and excused herself from their company.

"I'm going to retire," Elsa said after the woman left them. She started towards the stairs but hesitated in her progress. "I am sorry for earlier, Georg. I did not mean to suggest… It's only that I'm frightened for you, and for all of us."

"I know, Elsa."

She pressed her hands to the banister and glanced back at the door. "I never thought it would come to this. I never dreamed it would even be possible."

He did not tell her that this was the stuff that nightmares are made of. Instead he answered her with a smile and urged her to get some rest. She smiled warmly and left him alone in the foyer with the company of his thoughts.

The smell of smoke clung to the fabric of his tuxedo. Georg knew that he should change clothes, but instead he elected to talk with Max. He heard the hum of voices and the static of the radio as he approached his study. There he discovered Max and Maria talking quietly by the fire. Max stood next to the desk, and Maria was seated on the sofa. She leapt to her feet when Georg walked into the room and greeted him with a warm smile.

Max took in Georg's appearance as the voices from Residenzplatz cried out from the radio. "I take it that Vienna did not agree with you today?"

"Austria did not agree with me today," Georg answered shortly, pouring a glass of brandy from the decanter on his desk.

"Were you at Residenzplatz?" Maria asked.

"Elsa and I were driving back from Vienna when we saw the crowd in Salzburg. We went to the plaza to see what was happening, but then-"

"You could not believe what you were seeing?" Max mused. Georg stiffened at the humor beneath Max's words. He knew that his friend shared his political beliefs, but his cavalier tone often set Georg on edge.

"It's horrible," Maria said, shaking her head with a look of weary disbelief. "I could barely believe it was true when they reported it on the wireless."

Georg suddenly felt the weight of the day on his shoulders. Eager to change the subject, even for a moment, he lowered the volume on the radio and asked his friends what they had been discussing before he arrived.

Maria glanced at Max before answering. "I was just telling Herr Detweiler about a conversation I had with Liesl after dinner."

"You received a telegram during the dessert course," Max explained, plucking the envelope from his suit pocket.

"Liesl excused herself when the telegram arrived," Maria continued. Georg leaned against his desk and considered the amber depths of his drink. He briefly wondered whether the dissolution of his country or the simple fact that his eldest daughter was a woman would initiate his descent into madness.

"She's a fool if she thinks I'm unaware of her garden romances with that wretched boy."

"She's no fool, Captain, and she has given you no reason to question her choices," Maria countered. Her advocacy for his children would be admirable on any other day, but after the strain of this particular evening, he merely raised a hand in defeat. "She returned twenty minutes later, and I could tell that she was upset."

Georg suddenly remembered meeting the boy on the patio only a few weeks earlier. He'd been tossing pebbles at Liesl's window, but when the Captain discovered him, he raised his arm in a frantic Nazi salute.

With that memory fresh in his mind, he tore open the telegram. Its contents were not surprising, but still he felt the bitterness of defeat as he read the brief message.

"Berlin?" Max wondered.

Georg nodded. "It was inevitable, I suppose."

Maria crossed the room, and he silently surrendered the telegram so she might read it. "This says you're to report to Bremerhaven on Monday morning!"

"It's a request," Georg answered. "One that was not designed to be refused."

"But surely…" Maria lost her tongue when she realized the implication of his words. She thought of the soldiers she'd seen in Salzburg and imagined them pressing against the villa gates in Aigen. "They'd come for all of us," she breathed.

"Now you can see why I wanted you to return to the Abbey," he replied softly. He studied Maria's face as she tried to understand all of this information. Her eyes filled with tears, and the thin piece of paper fell from her hand with little ceremony. Georg wanted nothing more than to take her hand and draw her into his arms, but Max's presence kept him from reaching out to her.

Max retrieved the telegram and read the message. "This sheds some light on your conversation with Liesl, Fraulein Maria," he said, raising the paper with a frown.

Maria paled at the suggestion, but Georg asked, "What did she say, Fraulein?"

"She said…Rolf, the boy, said something that troubled her." She knew that her explanation was insufficient, but she regretted that she should be the one to deliver this news to the Captain. He implored her to continue, and Max gently urged her to share the same story she'd told him. Maria begged the Lord for strength as she repeated Liesl's words. "The boy told Liesl to ensure that you get the telegram. She said that she'd certainly do as he asked, but then he told her that you'd have blood on your hands if you continued to ignore what's happening in Austria."

Georg's heart broke at the thought of his poor daughter listening to those hateful words. He took the telegram from Max's hand and read it once again. Elsa's voice lingered in his mind, and he crumpled the telegram in his hand.

"To the way it has to be," he said sadly, draining his glass and hurling the message into the fire. He watched as the corners of the paper curled and trembled in the blaze. His mind was racing as he tried to think of a solution to his problems, but his thoughts were overwhelmed by the crackling hiss of the fire as the yellowed paper turned to ash.

_A/N: 1) The Residenzplatz book burning was the only book burning to take place in Austria, and I was truly shocked by the photographs and articles regarding this tragic event. However, I could not find an exact account that defined the number of people in attendance or the scale of the burning, so please excuse any historical inaccuracies in this work of fiction. 2) If you're in America, have a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday! I'll see y'all on the other side of Turkey Day with another installment of this story. Next up, Georg determines how the family will escape from Austria, and Maria makes her choice. 3) I'm thankful, as always, for your kind words and enthusiasm for this story. -CH _


	4. A Single Syllable

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this work of fiction and receive no profits from this story._

Elsa woke from a long and sleepless slumber at nine o'clock. She regretted the hour as soon as she consulted the time; she'd missed the morning mass, and she knew that Georg valued those trips to the Abbey with his children. She shut her eyes once again and lamented that her headache had not subsided. The agony of her discomfort, however, was soon blunted when she remembered the events of the previous evening.

She'd fought sleep for over an hour as she replayed the images from Residenzplatz in her mind. Like most things, the scene grew worse as she devoted more attention to its reconstruction. The fire was brighter, the flames were bigger, and the voices were louder. She'd shut her eyes and her mind when she could bear no more thoughts of the evening, but still the sound of those voices followed her into her sleep. She woke with tears on her cheeks and realized that she'd slept with her hands in tight fists for most of the night. Her fingernails had embedded frantic half-moons into the meat of her palms. She stretched her fingers and endured the tension that poured through her body.

When she finally rose from her bed, she dressed with care. Though she'd washed away the soot and smoke before going to bed the night before, she took another bath and applied her makeup with a practiced hand. She savored a cigarette by the open window as she evaluated her wardrobe and marveled that the house should be so quiet at such an early hour.

She selected a peach suit that she'd ordered from Paris. As she fastened the buttons of her blouse, she remembered the day she'd made the purchase. Margarete Brunn was with her in the Paris salon when they selected the frock. Elsa remembered how her friend had marveled that the color should so perfectly match her hair and complexion. She smiled at the memory, but then she recalled that Margarete's husband had become an officer in the Third Reich. Elsa tried to picture Lukas Brunn, dressed immaculately in his Nazi uniform, at the villa's dining room table, but it was an image too fantastic to fathom. Georg would never allow it, and Elsa again realized that her friendship with Margarete and so many others would never again be the same.

She tried to set aside her thoughts and finally traveled downstairs for breakfast. She had not had dinner the night before, and the smell of pastry and coffee filled the villa. Frau Schmidt greeted her at the bottom of the stairs and explained that the Captain had joined the children for morning mass. Elsa was embarrassed that she had not attended the service, and she blushingly explained her lingering headache. Frau Schmidt sighed sympathetically.

"If I'd endured the evening you and the Captain faced last night, Baroness, I should have stayed in bed for a week."

Elsa appreciated the woman's humor and thanked her for keeping the breakfast warm, but she was distracted from pursuing her meal by the sound of a car in the driveway. It was much too early for the mass to have concluded, so Elsa lingered in the foyer as Frau Schmidt greeted their sudden visitor.

She was startled when she heard Herr Zeller's booming voice. Frau Schmidt explained that the Captain was not at home, but the man then insisted upon speaking with Baroness Schrader. Not wanting to leave Frau Schmidt in an uncomfortable position, Elsa walked to the door and assured the housekeeper that she could attend to the Captain's guest.

"Good morning, Herr Zeller."

"Baroness." He raised his arm in a brisk salute to Herr Hitler. Startled by the man's sudden appearance and the small squad of soldiers flanking his car, Elsa raised her arm to mirror the gesture, and she saw a satisfied smile curl across the man's lips. "You did not join the family in church this morning?"

"No, I'm afraid I woke with a headache. I hope to attend a service later this evening, instead."

"I'm sorry to hear that, of course, but I hope you will take a trip into town today. You must see how last night's celebration has energized Salzburg," he said. "I understand you and the Captain were able to see some of the festivities."

Elsa paled at the mention of the events at Residenzplatz, but she answered him with a blithe smile. "We did. It was unlike anything I've ever seen before."

"It demonstrates the vigor and enthusiasm of the new Austria. Something your fiancé will be proud to defend when he takes his place with the officers of the Third Reich, I'm sure." Herr Zeller seemed to notice her surprise and grinned mischievously. "Captain von Trapp has told you that he's received orders to report to Bremerhaven on Monday morning?"

"Certainly," she lied. "I'm only surprised that the news should be public knowledge by now."

"I keep an eye on everything, Baroness, including the Captain. Besides, Austria has been waiting for him to serve his country once again. I regret only that the Third Reich had to request his service when so many others have willingly volunteered."

Elsa recognized the curious mixture of disgust and satisfaction lurking beneath his words, and she struggled to maintain her charming facade. "I'm sure you can appreciate his hesitancy, Herr Zeller. After all, he is the father of seven young children."

"Sacrifices are demanded of us all in the pursuit of what is right."

She had no response to those words. Eager to see him leave, she nodded to his bodyguards and said, "I can certainly tell Georg that you called, Herr Zeller. I expect he and the children will be home within the hour, and I would not want to detain you."

"Very good, Baroness. I only came to give the Captain a gift. Perhaps you could convey it to him on my behalf?"

"A gift?"

Herr Zeller turned to his bodyguards, and a young soldier stepped forward carrying a bolt of scarlet fabric. The bold angles of the swastika struck her attention, and she realized that they were giving Georg the Nazi flag. "Yours is the only home in the area without the flag," Zeller explained. "Since the Captain will now be representing the Third Reich, I thought it only appropriate to help him correct his error."

"Of course," she breathed. The next words stuck in her throat, but she knew that they must be spoken. "Thank you."

"If you'd like, one of my men will install it for you. After all, I know you are not feeling well today." The offer was a challenge. Elsa knew that he was inviting her to refuse, but she was certain that such a refusal would be catastrophic. Smiling tightly, she returned the flag to the young man and thanked Herr Zeller for the suggestion. The soldier hurried past her. She closed her eyes at the echoing sound of his boots on the tile and tried to imagine Georg's anger when he learned that a Nazi soldier had walked through his home.

A few moments later, the thunder of billowing fabric caught their attention, and the group on the front lawn looked up to see the flag floating down to hang over the door. It was large, and the bold colors were a stark contrast to the villa's pastoral landscape. Herr Zeller and his soldiers saluted the flag, and finally the man turned back to Elsa.

"Now all is right in Salzburg," he said with a humorless chuckle. "Please give the Captain my regards, and as I said, I do hope that you'll feel better soon." With a brisk nod, he turned to corral his men before finally returning to town.

She sighed deeply, releasing the breath she had not realized she'd been holding, but then she looked up at the flag. A breeze caught the corner of the material, and it waved above the door. She knew that it should be taken down, but she was intimidated by the force of Zeller's words. People were watching Georg and his home, and she'd heard what happened to those who disagreed with the new order.

Casting one more glance to the red wound above the door, she retreated into the house. Frau Schmidt asked if she needed any assistance, but Elsa only shook her head and hurried to the dining room. She said nothing when the housekeeper asked about the flag, and she wearily realized that she'd lost her appetite.

An hour later, Max entered the house. "That wasn't there when we left," he said in greeting, jerking his thumb towards the door.

"Herr Zeller and his men delivered it earlier this morning. It's a 'gift' for Georg."

The sharp sound of ripping fabric pierced the silence in the foyer. Max smiled thinly. "Well, we can tell him that Georg certainly received it."

For once, she did not enjoy his humor but met his gaze with a worried frown. "Max, they've been watching the house."

"I was afraid of that," he sighed. "I'm sure they'll also find out that Georg's likely planning a little bonfire of his own for that flag. He was steaming when we pulled into the front drive."

"I didn't know what else to do," she said wearily. "I knew he'd be angry, but there were soldiers and…" Her words failed her. She tried to regain her composure, but Max clutched her hand with a friendly smile.

"You did the right thing, my dear. Let Georg fight the monsters. His dear damsel should not dirty her hands by rattling swords against the enemy."

She wanted to reply, but then the door opened as the children walked into the foyer. The muffled sound of their footsteps filled the house as they hurried up the stairs, and Liesl offered the adults a feeble wave before scuttling Gretl towards the nursery. The upstairs door closed with a click, and Elsa turned back to Max. "I suppose I should find him."

"I suppose you should," he replied. "You tame Georg, and I shall prevail upon Frau Schmidt to tame my appetite."

Elsa shook her head at her friend's wit before stepping outside. She walked down the lane and finally heard Georg's voice emanating from the carriage house, but she hesitated when she realized that he was not alone.

Peering around the corner, she studied them for a moment without being detected. Georg stood next to the car. He gripped the door, and she noticed that the Nazi flag lay at his feet in two tattered pieces. Maria was beside him with her hand on his shoulder. She spoke softly in quiet counsel, and Elsa watched with bated breath as Georg's hand fell over the young woman's wrist. He kept his hold on her as he shut his eyes and took in all that she said. He craved her words and her presence, and he clung to her like a man seeking his salvation.

Elsa shrank in the doorway. She did not want to be caught spying on such a tender scene, but the brush of her heels against the pavement caught Maria's attention. The young woman looked up in surprise when she realized that Elsa had been watching them. She stepped away from the Captain with a blush on her cheek, and the loss of her touch drew Georg's attention to the doorway.

"Good morning, Baroness," Maria said softly.

"Good morning," she answered. "Max told me you might be out here."

Maria hurried away from the carriage house with a brief excuse about helping the children. Her absence left the couple alone in the drafty shadows of the garage. Elsa walked towards him, drawing her finger along the cool sleek edge of the car's hood. Georg collected the remnants of the flag and held them up as a silent question.

"Herr Zeller and his men brought it earlier this morning," she explained. "It's meant to celebrate your new office in the Third Reich's navy."

Georg scowled. "You heard?"

"Zeller told me. Apparently everyone in Austria knew except for me. Were you going to send me a postcard from Bremerhaven?"

"I only found out last night," he answered. "I was going to tell you this afternoon."

She nodded in understanding but noticed the circles beneath his eyes. "Georg, did you ever go to sleep last night?"

"Around two o'clock in the morning, yes," he replied. "I was up until all hours trying to decide what to do next."

"You don't plan to accept the position?"

He scoffed at the suggestion but shook his head soberly. "Surely you know that that is not an option, Elsa."

"But what else is to be done? Those men had guns this morning, Georg, and you know that two more families were arrested last week." She was terrified by the fear that gripped her body. It stifled her breath and clung at her heart, and she realized how vulnerable she was in the face of an uncertain future. "Think of the children-"

"How can I not think of the children?" His voice rose, and he raised his hands in empty frustration. "Two of Friedrich's classmates were bragging in church that they stoked the flames in the plaza. The father of one of Brigitta's friends was beaten in the streets last week on his way home from the market. My youngest girls don't understand why they can no longer play in the mountains, and I have no way of explaining that it's because I fear for their very safety in the place that they call home." He realized that he was talking briskly; he seemed to stumble on the words and gasped at their incredulity. "How is that worth fighting for?"

"So you'll simply send a polite telegram back to Herr Hitler declining the position?"

"No," he replied, ignoring her attempt at sarcasm. "That certainly will not do."

"Then what do you suggest, Georg?"

"We're leaving the country. Today."

She would not have been more surprised if he'd struck her. She'd certainly heard that many people were attempting to flee the country. Those without money and connections were rarely successful, and most ended up in the hands of the Nazi police. After that, their fates were the stuff of mysteries and rumors.

"But we're Austrians," she breathed, startled by the naïveté of her own words. "We've always been Austrians. How can we possibly…how can we leave?"

"This is no longer Austria. You saw what I saw last night."

"But to leave…our friends and our family are here, Georg. Our lives are in Austria." She recognized the steely resolve in his eyes, and in that reflection she discovered a different vein of the truth that she'd been ignoring for far too long. "My life is in Austria."

The simple substitution in pronouns surprised him, and he finally noticed the tear that fell down her cheek. She brushed her finger under her eyes, careful not to smear her makeup, but she was emboldened by the force of her own revelation. She summoned her courage and recognized that she might be losing him forever when she murmured, "Georg, are you in love with me?"

He wanted to lie to her. For the thousandth time in only one hundred days, he wished that he could look at her and promise that he loved her, but he was weary of denying the truth in his heart. He brushed his thumb against her palm and finally said, "No."

A few months earlier, his reply would have been a blow, but on this day, Elsa welcomed his confession with a smile. She loved him, but she knew that she was not in love with him, just as she knew that his heart belonged with Maria. In the breath of a single syllable, he freed them both from a future that had long felt like a prison sentence.

"Elsa-"

"Georg, please. We've spent far too much time being kind to each other and not nearly enough time being honest." She looked up at him as though seeing him for the first time. "I can't leave Austria. I know that it's the right thing for you and the children, but…it's simply not the right path for me." She held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. "I suppose I wish I were a stronger person, but I believe that things can get better here. My life is here, with my friends and…well, it's certainly no surprise that I belong in Vienna." They chuckled in spite of themselves. "I think we've both seen this coming for some time."

"Perhaps," he confessed. "It's not that I don't care about you, Elsa."

"I care about you, too," she replied. "But I need someone who needs me desperately, and after these past few months, I know that I'm not that person for you."

"I don't want to leave you behind. It's not safe here."

"Darling, it isn't safe anywhere. And if you'd paid attention at any of those dinner parties I took you to, you would have learned that there is one thing, and one thing only, that the Nazis truly respect," she said coquettishly. "Money. I will be safe, I promise you."

"But if…when we leave, they'll come to you to find out where we've gone," he argued.

"Then you mustn't tell me anything. I will see you off to Bremerhaven, believing that you are leaving to join our 'illustrious' navy, but then I will be shocked when you fail to report for duty. I can be quite persuasive as an actress, you know. Give me a week and all of Austria will believe that I am your jilted lover, cast aside because I refused to adopt your rouge, traitorous beliefs." She spoke with a dramatic tone, and he could not resist his own laughter at the idea of such a performance. A few moments later, her own laughter abated, and she spoke again with heartfelt sincerity. "But in reality, I'll be praying for you all each night, hoping that you reach safety and find the lives that you were meant to live. And that I mean with all of my heart."

Moved by her sentiment and liberated by the kindness of her words, he pressed a soft kiss to her hand. Like Elsa, he knew that they would have been pitiful partners in marriage, but he regretfully acknowledged that his departure would almost certainly mean an abrupt end to their friendship.

"When will you leave?"

"Soon after three o'clock. There's a train to Bremerhaven leaving from Innsbruck, so that's where I am bound, for all intents and purposes," he explained. "If you don't mind, I'll keep the other details to myself, if only so you can honestly say that you knew nothing of my plans."

"Of course," she smiled. "I do hope this all works out for you, darling." She kept her hold on his hand when she asked one final question. "Will you be asking Fraulein Maria to join you?"

If it hadn't all been so terribly tragic, she would have laughed at the shock and guilt that clouded his eyes. While she'd been initially jealous of his affections towards Maria, she was now powerless to deny that he was in love with her. He'd been a different person ever since the young woman returned from the Abbey, and the man he'd become was one whom Elsa barely recognized. She watched them together, envious of the way that they clung to each other with their words and their eyes, and she finally accepted that he drew his greatest strength from Maria's spirit.

Collecting his composure, Georg opened his hands in a silent apology. "Elsa, I never-"

"You forget that I was married to a navy man myself once upon a time, Georg. I know that you're a man of honor." He was grateful for her conciliatory tone, but still she continued, "That doesn't mean that you don't need her, though, and you do."

He recognized the pain in her voice and knew that it had taken considerable strength for her to concede his love for another woman. Bowing his head, he decided not to contest the truth and quietly replied, "I could never ask that of her."

"You could, and she would agree." Fresh tears filled her eyes, and she glanced back towards the house with a defeated smile. "Women will do terribly foolish things for the men they love." His eyes widened at the implication of her words, but she bowed her head with feigned coyness. "Only a suggestion."

He wanted to reply, but distant bells from Salzburg announced the turn of the hour. He hesitated in his steps and realized that time was passing quickly, but Elsa recognized the urgency in his gaze. His journey would begin soon, and time would not wait. She held him close, whispering goodbye before pressing a kiss to his cheek, and finally she stood back to let him go.

_A/N: 1) Apologies for my delay in posting this. I'm getting into the thick of final exams, and I wrote and scrapped four different versions of this chapter before finally settling on this. I hope it is satisfactory, as it is this story's very own so-long-farewell to Elsa Schrader. 2) I was going to include Georg's conversation with Maria about leaving the country but decided to save it. My reasons are both selfish and artistic: writing Georg/Maria scenes is a perfect respite from studying, and this chapter was simply becoming too unwieldy to also include that scene. Long story short, stay tuned for angst and romance in the next chapter! 3) Meaningless trivia: I had that song "Danke Schoen" stuck in my head the entire time I wrote this. 4) Thanks, as always, for your kind words and encouragement! -CH_


	5. The World Is Different

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this work of fiction and receive no profits from this story._

The wind was strong, and it seemed to urge him to pause and take in all that he was about to surrender. He obeyed its quiet command and hesitated on the front steps of the villa to study the water and the flowering trees that guarded its shore. He tried to see it all in at once, but the force of its pristine beauty was overwhelming.

"You know that the world is different." Those were the simple words that Maria had whispered only a few minutes earlier before Elsa surprised them in the carriage house. They clung to him as he admired his surroundings. He drew strength from the sudden novelty of having purpose; after too many weeks of impotently watching the Nazis drain the life and beauty out of his country, he finally had a solution. Despite this new vocation, the very notion of leaving Austria cut him to the soul. Before deciding that escape was the only option, the bitterness of his new reality had colored his response to her observation.

"Fighting is useless."

When he said it, the fabric of the Nazi flag had poured over his hands like blood from a wound. He'd known defeat in his life, but nothing compared to the deep loss that gripped his heart on that quiet morning. To resist the Nazis would spell doom for his entire family, but to join them was simply unthinkable. He was lost and adrift, and he recognized the fear that paralyzed his thoughts.

He was rescued by the gentle weight of her hand on his shoulder. "That all depends on how you fight." Closing his eyes, he dropped the flag and pushed his hand through his hair, but she did not release her hold on him. She drew closer, and he nearly trembled when he felt the soft caress of her breath against his cheek. "Guns and swords…that sort of fighting would be meaningless. But living honorably, holding onto our faith and our ideals? That's the Austria we love, and it lives inside us. No one could ever take that away."

She'd never know it, but her soothing words gave him strength to make the only choice that was left to be made. The idea of abandoning his country had tormented him for weeks on end. He'd heard of other families racing toward the border, but whenever he considered that solution, his thoughts invariably returned to the lecture halls of the naval academy. He remembered Captain Faerber standing at the head of the class with his hands in his pockets. He spoke calmly and thoughtfully, but when he discussed duty, his voice boomed overhead with a force that could not be ignored. "A captain guides his ship with honor, mindful of the men beneath its sails and conscious of the country he represents," Captain Faerber declared. "He leads his ship under the pain of peril, and he stays with her even when the sea claims her for its depths."

For too long, he'd equated Austria with one of his ships. He feared the pain of guilt and defeat that he would feel if he finally left the country, and he believed that he could not truly love Austria if he abandoned her in her hour of need. That changed when he heard Maria's gentle words. With her hand on his shoulder, he realized that he'd spent too many weeks trying to survive in a place that was no longer familiar to him. His country was not a sinking ship on the black seas; it merely maintained a different course and sailed under the colors of an enemy flag.

He realized that he could live a better life in another place. He thought of his children and realized that everything he loved about his country lived in their hearts. Their goodness, kindness, and honor could flourish in another land, removed from the horrors of the Nazi regime, and in that way, the Austria he loved would never wither away.

The force of that discovery was crippling, and with a quiet sob, he reached for Maria's hand. His fingers closed around her wrist, and he wished that he could draw her closer, but he felt her move away almost as soon as he made contact with her supple skin. He glanced at the entrance and saw Elsa's slight frame in the door, and he knew exactly what he needed to do to set things right.

Now, only a few minutes later, he marveled that so much had changed in such a brief span of time. As Maria had said, the world was undoubtedly different. Elsa had released him from his promise, and the promise of a future waited beyond the Austrian border. He lingered in the doorway to whisper a silent benediction for the life he'd led until that very moment.

The distant music of the children's voices caught his attention. He lingered for a moment longer, tracing the landscape with his gaze and praying that he would never forget how lovely it all appeared on that warm spring day, but finally he retreated into the house to find his family and begin their escape.

He followed their voices to the dining room. Frau Schmidt had prepared an early lunch, and Max was entertaining the children with a story as they began their meal. Georg smiled at the scene, but finally he realized that Maria was not present at the table. When he asked about her whereabouts, Friedrich explained that their governess was preparing to help the children with their studies after lunch.

"I told her that we weren't supposed to do work on Sundays," Kurt scowled. "She said God would make an exception since I don't understand fractions."

Georg laughed and enjoyed the sweet curves of his children's smiles. He wrapped one of Gretl's curls around his finger as he urged them to continue with their meal, and he promised to join them as soon as he'd spoken with Fraulein Maria. Accepting his excuse, the children nodded before Brigitta implored Max to continue his amusing story.

He climbed the stairs quickly and entered the nursery without knocking. She'd cleared the large table near the window and set out pencils and paper for the afternoon's activities, but that was the extent of her preparation. She stood near the window, looking out at the water with her arms folded across her chest.

"Fraulein."

Her hand danced over her heart as she turned suddenly towards the sound of his voice. She smiled in spite of her surprise, and he apologized for frightening her.

"I was lost in my thoughts," she said with a blush on her cheek. "Aren't you joining the children for lunch?"

"I intend to, but first…first I need to talk to you."

Maria's heart caught in her throat. His voice was different; each word was stained with fear and cautious on his tongue.

"I think I know why you're here," she said softly. She searched his gaze, hoping that she was wrong but certain that she was right. The steepled mountains reached towards the heavens beyond the window, and honeyed sunlight bathed the world in gold, but he could see nothing but the tragic tears that lingered in the depths of her eyes. She drew a breath and quietly asked, "When will you leave?"

"In a few hours."

She nodded. "I could tell, earlier, when we were talking in the garage. I knew that this is what you would have to do."

"I can't refuse them."

"I know."

"And staying would be…"

"I know," she said again, her voice breaking on the edge of the word. She pressed his hand, as though she were begging him not to finish the sentence. "I'll see that the children's things are packed."

"Thank you. I don't want to alarm anyone, including Frau Schmidt and Franz, so I'll prevail upon your discretion, of course."

"Of course," she echoed, smiling humorlessly. "I'll also see if the Baroness needs any help with her things. She must be terribly anxious about this."

He hesitated before responding. "That won't be necessary. Elsa is not joining us."

"I don't understand."

"We've…we've called off our engagement," he answered. Despite the overwhelming events of the day and the pressure of all that needed to be accomplished before the end of the afternoon, he could not resist the opportunity to see how she would respond to this information. If he expected her to laugh or smile or fall into his arms, he was disappointed, for she only frowned and looked out at the mountains once again.

"Where will you go?" she wondered.

"I'd rather not say."

She turned to face him, and he discovered a curious look of hurt and anger in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It's not safe for you or any of the others to know where we've gone. I can't tell you."

"But it's perfectly safe for you to disappear into the night with seven young children, never to be seen or heard from again?"

He was puzzled by her clipped question, but he was even more surprised by the tone of her voice. She was incredulous, and he did not understand her confusion. His response was instinctive; he stood taller and patronizingly asked, "Am I to understand that you're _angry_ with me, Fraulein?"

She stiffened, but she did not shrink from the argument. "You're being unimaginably foolish, sir, so yes, I'm angry."

He was reminded of another day in what seemed like another lifetime, standing next to the lake as her dress dripped onto his boots. Since that day, he'd become well acquainted with her temper. It flickered in his memories as a scarlet symbol of her unique passion, but on this occasion, he was unprepared for the force of her fury.

"Fraulein, I-"

"You honestly plan to escape from an occupied country with seven children? Alone!?" Her voice was spiced with anger. "Have you even considered the implications of such an idea? Marta is only getting over a chest cold. What if she becomes ill again, or one of the children is injured? Will you go on, or will you stop and rest with the Germans on your heels and no plan for survival?"

The speed of her questions overwhelmed him as he realized that he could not answer any of them. He tried to interject, but her tirade continued. Like the day by the lake, she spoke quickly and personally; each word was a sword that cut at his flesh, digging in deeply to press against his soul.

"You forget yourself."

She was undeterred. "If I've forgotten myself, then it's for the best, because you're ignoring your own limitations. You need someone to help you with this, Captain. What if you're captured, or something…something happens to you?" Her rapid interrogation was crippled by her own fear. She choked on the syllables but tried to carry on. "You could be hurt or arrested, and then who would care for the children? You know they won't stop looking for you, and then-"

"So you would have me wait until Herr Zeller and a squad of Nazis collect us from our beds in the middle of the night?"

"Of course not! I only ask that you see reason and-"

"This is none of your affair!"

His exclamation bruised her, for in a short sentence, he'd reminded her of the wall that stood between her and the family she loved. She had no sharp reply. Her voice was stifled by a quiet sob, and she turned away from him for fear of what she might discover in his eyes.

He regretted the words as soon as he said them. His hand fell upon her arm. She tried to pull away from him, but he would not allow it. He heard the quiet sob on her lips as she fought everything at the same time: her heart, her mind, her fears, and him. It was a war with too many fronts, and her surrender was complete when he finally curled his arm around her waist and drew her into his embrace.

Though he'd never been hers in the first place, she knew that she was losing him. She wished she had the courage to say what he needed to hear; she wanted to tell him how much she loved him, but the scars on her heart were too tough to allow her that breed of courage. Instead she curled her arms around his neck and held him fiercely as quiet tears burned her eyes. She choked on her silence, but she also mourned everything that she was about to lose. She was afraid for him, afraid for his family, and terrified to think of her life without him.

Georg felt her fight for each trembling breath, and he let his fingers touch the nape of her neck. Her pulse beat wildly beneath his thumb, and the simple intimacy of her hair brushing against his chin took his breath away. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer for forgiveness; he knew that it was wrong to find pleasure in this moment, but he also knew that he wanted nothing more than to spend his life in the peaceful comfort of her arms.

A few moments later, her fingers pressed into his arms when she finally stepped back to meet his gaze. Seeing the redness in her eyes, Georg produced a handkerchief as a peace offering, and she accepted it with a weary smile.

"Forgive me, Captain."

"There's nothing to forgive."

"You're being polite. I'm always speaking out of turn," she said, dabbing her eyes.

"Fraulein, I've known you for some time now, and if I've learned one thing, it's that it is somehow always your turn to speak."She laughed at his joke, but then he pressed her hand and continued, "Nothing you said was untrue."

"While I spoke too harshly, I meant every word. It's far too dangerous for you to do this alone."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"That I come with you."

He'd devoted little thought to Elsa's earlier suggestion that he invite Maria with him for the journey. He'd convinced himself that she had little room for him in her heart; while he once thought that he'd seen love in her eyes, he'd long since determined that it was safer to believe that she did not care for him. That belief protected him from the pain of hoping for something better, but it also allowed him to avoid the questions that tormented him. He'd never imagined that she would offer to join them, and his surprise must have been evident on his face.

"You can't take care of the children by yourself, Captain. Not on a journey like this. They have your spirit, and they'll try their best to make you proud of them, but there are too many variables that you've not considered. You need help, and I'm offering it to you."

"I could never ask you to leave Austria," he said gently.

"Then thank goodness I volunteered," she answered with a smile. "Please let me come along, Captain. You said that this is 'none of my affair,' but your family is my family." He flinched when she reminded him of his fiery words, but she absolved him when she put her hand on his arm and softly pleaded, "Please don't make me say goodbye to you today."

She broke his heart with that honest request, and he knew that he loved her. Indeed, in that very moment, that was the only fact in his life that was completely certain. Elsa had seen it, and in his heart of hearts, he knew it, too. He'd been foolish to think that he could ever complete this journey without her, and he knew that he'd be a stronger person with her standing at his side.

"You can join us," he said, squeezing her hand. "If you're certain that it's what you want."

"Whither thou goest, I shall go," she smiled, quoting the scripture from memory. Like Georg, she found sudden purpose with this new decision, and she was eagerly impatient when she asked, "Now will you please tell me where we're going?"

The mere sound of the word "we" on her tongue gave him the strength he needed to imagine the difficult days ahead. Without further preamble, he told her his plan, and she listened carefully as he described the great adventure that would forever change their lives.

_A/N: 1) In an ideal world, I'd post a new chapter every three days, but exams start this week, so "ideal world" doesn't start until Dec. 21. Please bear with me! 2) Meaningless trivia: "Somebody That I Used to Know" by Gotye and Adele's awesome "Skyfall" were constantly playing as I wrote this chapter. Her smoky "where you go I go…" refrain just slays me. 3) Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing. Your lovely comments are absolute rays of sunshine as I study away in the library. I hope you'll enjoy the next chapters as they unfold! –C. _


	6. The Elusive Captain

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this work of fiction and receive no profits from this story._

Frau Schimdt waved goodbye when the family car pulled away from the villa in the late afternoon, and her voice was bright as she promised to see the children when they returned from Innsbruck. For all outside appearances, Georg was boarding the evening train to Bremerhaven, and his children were traveling with him to Innsbruck to wave heartfelt farewells from the platform. In reality, he intended to flee the train before it left the station and travel with his family to Switzerland under the cover of night. If all went according to plan, he believed that they would reach one of the border towns before midnight, and from there they could travel to safety by foot.

Alone in the nursery only a few hours earlier, he'd shared this plan with Maria, but she surprised him by recommending that he tell the children, too. He was reluctant to agree. It would have been easy to lie to them and say that they were merely leaving for a holiday, but she argued that they deserved to know the full truth if they were to follow him into the shadow of danger. He finally conceded, and when he explained the scheme to the children, he was astonished by how easy it was to trust them. They were calm and confident as they listened intently, and the love reflected in their eyes assured him that they would do their best to make him proud.

Questions would be raised if people believed he was leaving Salzburg for any reason other than to take his place in the navy, so it was imperative for everyone to assume that he was bound for Germany. For that reason, he called the German naval command to formally accept his post; saying those words, even though they were not true, brought the taste of bile to his throat, but he controlled his temper for the sake of his scheme. The commander said a few kind words and lectured him on the virtues of the Third Reich before Georg finally managed to truncate the conversation. When he hung up the telephone, he realized that his hands were trembling, but he did not know whether it was from fear or anger.

It had been easy to lie to the German commander, but it was far more difficult to deceive poor Frau Schmidt. He knew that this ruse would ensure safety for everyone, but that certainty did not dull the guilt that clawed his heart as he joined his children in waving goodbye to their beloved housekeeper.

"Are you sure we can't tell her that we're really going to Switzerland?" Gretl whispered hoarsely, but Maria touched a finger to the child's lips as Friedrich implored her to keep quiet.

"Remember, darling, we can't say a word of this to anyone today. Not even Frau Schmidt."

"But why not?" Gretl pouted, looking back at their smiling housekeeper. "She's so nice, and she would want to know where we are going."

"Yes, but we must make sure that she won't get into any trouble if people start looking for us after we've gone," Liesl explained, squeezing her sister's hand in comfort. "It's for her own good."

Gretl considered the explanation and seemed to accept it, and finally she joined her siblings in bravely bidding farewell to the woman who'd cared for them since their mother's death.

While the children turned in their seats to steal one final glimpse of their home, Maria caught their attention when she said, "Take a moment to look at this place, children. You must paint a picture with your memories."

"Will we come back here someday, Fraulein Maria?"

"I hope so, Brigitta."

"What do you think, Father?" the girl wondered.

"I'm hopeful, too, darling. That's all any of us can do: hope."

He caught Maria's eye in the rearview mirror, and he saw the small arc of her smile as she shared his sentiment. He was grateful for the simple fact of her presence. He'd never imagined that she would join him on this journey, but now he could not fathom the notion of leaving without her.

The family grew quiet as they looked out the window to consider the home that they were leaving behind. Georg remembered his own favorite memories: the beautiful chorus of his children's voices filling the foyer in song, the familiar collection of toys and books that always littered the nursery floor, and the melodic laughter that poured into the house from the patio in the summertime.

He considered it all as they traveled through town and onto the main thoroughfare, and he knew that none of it would have been possible without Maria. He'd only moved the family to Aigen to escape the memories that tortured him after Agathe's death. He never dreamed that this house would one day become a home, so he was surprised to discover how many memories of love and laughter he now carried in his heart.

"What sort of memories should we be painting?" Gretl finally asked impatiently. The child was confused, but Maria chuckled and replied, "Anything you want to remember forever."

"Like our first picnic on the mountains," Louisa suggested.

"Or the time we all fell into the lake!"

"I don't want to remember that," Gretl answered with a frown. "The water tasted terrible." The family laughed at her unwitting joke, but she leaned against Maria and sighed. "I want to remember the first day you came to us, Fraulein Maria."

"When you all offered me such a 'warm' welcome?" Maria asked knowingly. She smiled as the children frowned at their remembered sins, but she touched their cheeks and assured them that she, too, would always remember that special day.

"What about the night you taught me how to dance, Fraulein?" Kurt wondered.

It was Maria's turn to blush, and her breath caught in her throat when she noticed Georg studying her in the rearview mirror. She licked her lips and gently answered Kurt's question. "Yes, I imagine that is a night that none of us will ever forget."

The children continued to list their favorite memories, and their warm conversation seemed to quell the fears they'd felt upon leaving the villa. Georg was quiet behind the wheel as he, too, painted a memory that he could cling to forever, but he did not need a master's brush to recall the details of his dance with Maria. He'd already spent too many restless nights remembering that evening. Indeed, he imagined that the walls of his heart looked like the vaulting ceilings of the Sistine Chapel, for he'd commemorated each detail to his memory with immaculate precision: the light in her eyes as she looked up at him in the moonlight, her small smile when she took his hand, and the roses that blossomed on her cheek as she reluctantly stepped away from him.

He glanced back at her once again and found her gazing out the window. She was lost in her thoughts, but he wondered if she, too, was thinking of that night and the warmth of their embrace. He wanted to ask her a dozen questions, but his thoughts were interrupted when Friedrich gasped beside him.

"Father, look!" The boy pointed to a small cadre of Nazi soldiers guarding the intersection. Georg slowed the car as they entered the queue of vehicles waiting at the checkpoint. "Do you think they will let us pass?"

"Surely, Friedrich. After all, we're not doing anything wrong. At least, not that they could tell just by looking at us," Georg said with a smile. He could only hope that he sounded more confident than he felt. He was not ignorant of the new realities in Austria. Families were arrested at the borders every day, and it was hardly a secret that most of his countrymen were desperate to see him join the ranks of the Third Reich. If the soldiers knew his true motives for traveling on that particular day, his family would be in significant jeopardy.

"They're questioning people," Kurt said, arching up in his seat to peer down the road. "There's a soldier at every car."

"Then it's very important that we remain quiet, Kurt," Maria said, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and urging him to sit down once again. He complied grudgingly, but still he leaned closer to the window to study the scene. Maria gathered the younger children closer to her side, and Georg tried to appear calm as one of the soldiers walked up to the car.

The young soldier who approached them was only a few years older than Friedrich. He tapped the glass and motioned for Georg to roll down his window. When he complied, the soldier looked into the car; he examined each of their faces before smiling brightly.

"It seems that I will win the prize tonight," he beamed before turning and calling out for his lieutenant. Georg realized that he was holding his breath as he watched the commanding officer stride towards the car. The older man wore the Nazi uniform with distinct pride and spoke to his subordinate officer in clipped tones before turning to the von Trapp sedan. The children shifted awkwardly in their seats, and Maria held their hands as she quietly reminded them to stay absolutely silent.

Like the young soldier, the lieutenant peered through the windows before glancing at Georg, but finally he smiled and said, "Well done, Fritz. You have found the elusive Captain von Trapp." He smiled humorlessly at the children before leveling his gaze at Georg. "I am Lieutenant Eichel. We have been searching for you for some time today, Captain."

"I was not aware that I'd been misplaced," Georg said with a dry chuckle. "I telephoned the commander at Bremerhaven earlier this afternoon and said that I'd be taking the evening train from Innsbruck, and that is where I'm currently bound."

"And yet you were seen leaving your home with all of your children and a handful of suitcases," Eichel answered. "Surely you knew that such an action would seem suspicious."

"I did not realize that I was being studied like a specimen in a jar, Lieutenant." Georg heard the bitterness in his own voice and steeled his jaw. He knew that losing his temper would be meaningless, for these soldiers were searching for an excuse to reach for their guns.

"You are a peculiar specimen, Captain von Trapp. That much is certain," the officer sneered. "Whether you are in a jar or in a cage remains to be known."

The air was thick with tension, but finally Gretl asked, "Are you cross with Father?"

The sweet timbre of the child's voice seemed to startle everyone. Her siblings gasped in surprise while Maria's hand fell protectively to the girl's shoulder, but Eichel and two of his soldiers leaned into the car with curiosity. A flashlight beam fell onto Gretl's face, and her eyes widened in fear.

"Move the light away from the child, Fritz," Eichel barked, batting away the flashlight impatiently. "No one is cross with your father, my dear. We are only wondering where he is off to on such a lovely spring evening."

"We are going to Innsbruck," Gretl replied. "Father's leaving for Germany tonight, and we came to say goodbye."

Georg was impressed that his little girl remembered the lie she'd been fed after lunch, and in the breath of that moment, he was grateful that he'd taken Maria's advice and shared his plans with the children. They were all eager to bolster Gretl's story. The boys looked on with sober frowns worthy of a funeral, and Louisa cradled Marta's hand like a saint from a dusty renaissance painting when the younger girl tearfully added, "I shall miss him so much when he leaves us, but I know that it is for the best."

"It's been a trying day for us all, Lieutenant," Maria said wearily. "Might we proceed so the children can have some time with their father before he leaves?"

Eichel glanced into the car once again and clucked his tongue. "I did not realize that the Baroness was also traveling with you, Captain."

Maria blushed at the misunderstanding, but Georg said, "This is my governess. She has joined us so she can accompany the children on their return to Salzburg in the morning. Baroness Schrader did not feel well enough to travel this evening."

"Forgive me, Captain. And please accept my apologies, Fraulein."

Georg glanced back at his children before meeting Lieutenant Eichel's scrutinizing stare. "Not to worry, Lieutenant. We wish only to continue to Innsbruck so we can share a few moments together before my train departs."

Georg imagined that he could see the wheels of the man's mind turning in busy thought. For a fleeting moment, he believed they might be excused without further incident, but then an idea seemed to seize Eichel's attention. "Well, if you are bound for Bremerhaven, it would be my honor to escort you to the station. I'd be glad to ensure—oh, what do the sailors say?-smooth sailing for the remainder of your journey."

"That will not be necessary, Lieutenant Eichel. We're only an hour from Innsbruck, and I'm sure we can-"

"Oh no, Captain. Part of the reason we are here, combing the streets, is to make certain that you reach your destination in Bremerhaven. Please do not prevent me from the duties of my office. My men will be happy to clear the roads and see that you meet your train in a timely manner."

Eichel smiled as he offered this invitation, but Georg recognized the threat lingering beneath each silken word. Refusing the man's offer would certainly raise suspicions about their journey and invite unwanted danger upon his family. With a tense smile, he clenched the steering wheel and nodded politely.

"Then it's settled," Eichel said, not waiting for further reply. "Follow young Fritz's car, and we will deliver you to the station with plenty of time to spare for the tender embrace of your family." The man waved patronizingly at the children before leading his men back to the intersection, and the von Trapps watched as the rest of the cars were dismissed from the queue.

A weighted silence fell over the family, but finally Georg shifted his car into gear and followed the soldier's vehicle. Nazi flags waved over the headlights of their escort's car, and other vehicles quickly pulled to the side of the road to make way for the envoy's passage. The family paled when they realized onlookers were smiling and cheering at the sight of the scarlet flag.

"This changes things, doesn't it, Father?" Liesl wondered.

"It changes everything," he answered softly.

"What will you do now? They won't let you slip away like you'd hoped, not if they're going to escort you onto the train," Friedrich lamented.

Georg could not answer their questions. His thoughts were racing. He was not prepared for this unexpected development, and he chastised himself for failing to realize that his house was being watched throughout the day. He was also acutely aware of his children's stares and silence. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Maria as she watched the landscape fade into the hazy twilight. Her brow was creased in thought as her fingers worried the seam of her coat.

"Fraulein, what are you thinking?"

She started at the sound of her name, but she met his eye in the mirror. "Nothing, Captain."

"You have an idea." He did not say these words as a question. It was an observation. He knew her too well and had studied her for too long not to know when her mind was working. He knew that she had an idea, and he was desperate to know what it was.

"You won't like it."

"I'm fairly certain of that, given the circumstances, but it's never stopped you before."

Emboldened but hesitant, she said, "We must go on to Innsbruck, since we now have an escort, but I was just thinking that we might get….lost."

"Lost? We're only an hour from town, and the soldiers are leading the way," Kurt said, turning in his seat to see how his governess might respond to his observation.

"Well, we certainly couldn't get lost on the road, but I do think we could get lost in Innsbruck. It's a busy town. The Germans have been building a large presence there, and Herr Detweiler said only a few days ago that the crowds at the station rival any that he's ever seen. It would be easy to disappear with so many people about, and then perhaps we might slip away without being noticed."

Georg admired the creativity of her idea, but he recognized a flaw that was too obvious to be ignored. "Won't a group of nine people be rather conspicuous? My new friend, Lieutenant Eichel, seemed to recognize us on sight," he said bitterly.

"Yes. We would have to split up." In the dim light, she recognized the fire blazing in his eyes. "That's the part you weren't going to like."

"No."

"Captain-"

"No. I will not separate this family. The mere suggestion is the definition of madness," he said firmly.

"I am not proposing that we send Brigitta and Marta on their way to London by themselves," she countered hotly, "but we can't travel through Innsbruck as a group. The moment you take an unexpected step, the entire German army will be searching for a man with seven children. You said it yourself: they knew us by our number. If we travel as a group, we might as well carry a sign bearing the family crest."

"There must be another way."

"It could be alright, Father," Louisa said bravely. "After all, we wouldn't be apart for the entire journey, only until we are able to leave Innsbruck. Right, Fraulein?"

Maria hated to use the children as soldiers for her cause, but she nodded to affirm Louisa's question. "Exactly. Then we can reconvene and create a new plan. I can take the girls, since the lieutenant so clearly demonstrated that no one knows who I am, and it's most unlikely that the people of Innsbruck would recognize the children. You can take Kurt and Friedrich and meet us on the other side of the city."

"It's far too dangerous," he said quietly.

Maria sighed sadly and leaned forward so that only he could hear her voice. "It will be dangerous no matter what, Captain. We've known that from the start of all this. It's only a matter of deciding whether this is a risk worth taking, and…I believe it is."

Though he was desperate to follow through with his original plan, he recognized that fleeing Innsbruck Central Station with all of his children and a handful of suitcases would be like target practice for the Nazi patrolmen. The sun was setting fast in the hills and the lights of Innsbruck would soon appear on the horizon. Time was running out, and he knew that they would need a plan of action when they arrived at the station. Georg was frightened of all that the night might bring, but he wanted to believe that they could survive this night and all the rest still to come.

He felt her breath on his neck as she waited for his response. He kept his eyes on the road but tilted his head towards her and lowered his voice. "Do you really think we'll succeed?"

"Perhaps not," she murmured, "but it's the only idea we have at the moment. And God will be with us. He surely won't let us falter on a night like this."

"You have so much faith in God, Fraulein…"

"I do," she nodded, "but I also have faith in us. I think we can do this, if we try."

Her words moved him. He realized that he trusted her completely, and while he'd struggled with his religious beliefs after Agathe's death, he'd never lost faith in Maria. With a sigh of resignation, he surrendered his fears and said, "Alright, 'Captain.' Tell us how we shall proceed."

She smiled when he called her "Captain," but then she was distracted by the children as they imagined the night's possibilities and began to ask questions. "First, I'll need one of the maps from the glove compartment," she said. "And then we shall talk about playing make-believe in Innsbruck…"

_A/N: 1) First, I hope everyone had a lovely holiday! Second, please accept a thousand apologies for my delay in posting this installment. Exams were crippling, and then I got engaged right before Christmas (yey!), so it's been a very busy few weeks! 2) This chapter was a real beast to write; I wrote and deleted about 8,000 words in trying to figure out the best approach for this transitional point in the story, so I hope y'all like how it turned out. 3) Thanks for reading/commenting/following/favoriting and so forth. Your kind words keep me going. I promise that there won't be a 2-3 week gap between this chapter and the next installment. –C._


	7. Lake Lans

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this work of fiction and receive no profits from this story._

A few stars spilled across the sky. The moon hid like a fugitive behind the passing clouds, but when it showed its pearly face, it revealed only the sparkling black water of Lake Lans.

Georg studied the lake from the grassy bank. As a younger man, he'd stood in the same spot and watched his lovely Agathe toe the water with a shivering smile. Her laughter had drifted over the lake like a skipping stone, and he remembered the delicate curve of her ankle as she finally hurried away from the water's edge. He remembered so much about his wife—her laugh, the color of her hair, and the way she said his name—but for no peculiar reason, he could think of nothing but her dainty pointed toes as he looked out into the darkness.

"Do you think the water is very cold tonight, Father?"

"Oh, almost certainly, Kurt," he answered, stirred from his thoughts by his son's quiet question. Kurt sat on the dock only a few feet away from his father. He hugged his knees as he looked out at the vast lake. "The ice only melted a few weeks ago, after all, and we're very close to the mountains. It will be several weeks before the water is warm enough for swimming or boating."

"I would think that it's nice here in the summertime."

"Yes," Georg smiled, warmed for a moment by his memories. "It is."

He glanced over his shoulder to find Friedrich. The boy was standing near the trees, touching their branches as he wrestled with his own thoughts and fears. Georg wanted to call out and remind his son to stay close by, but he knew that such a reminder was futile. Friedrich was a man, as he'd proven earlier that evening, and Georg could no longer treat him like a boy.

"I hate waiting," Kurt said. "Fraulein Maria says that I should just be grateful that I have something to look forward to, but that's usually when I'm asking how long we have to wait for dessert." Despite the hour and his own anxiousness, Georg chuckled at his youngest son's weary lamentation. Kurt blushed in the darkness but continued, "It's different now, though. Waiting like this."

"I know," Georg said gently. He turned and studied the dusty road that curled away from the lake, but the road was empty and the night was quiet. Though they'd only been sitting by the water for two hours, it felt as though they'd been waiting for half a century.

"You don't think we should look for them, do you?" Friedrich asked as he walked across the small patch of grass to join his father and brother. "It's been such a long time…"

"Not yet," Georg said. "We promised that we'd wait, and that's what we'll do."

"But what if-"

"Please, Friedrich. I beg of you not to finish that sentence." Georg's voice was quiet, but he spoke with a force that could not be mistaken. Friedrich abandoned his hypothesis and joined his brother on the dock. The wooden structure rocked beneath their weight, but the lake merely rippled before the water calmed once again.

"They're probably taking a longer time because of Marta and Gretl," Kurt said to his brother. "They don't walk as fast as the rest of us." Friedrich did not respond to this explanation, so the boy fell silent and looked out at the water. "I hate waiting," he sighed again. No one answered him, but knew that his companions shared his sentiment, just as he was certain that they shared his fears.

Only three hours earlier, Georg, Maria, and the children had been sitting in a dense line of traffic on the edge of Innsbruck. Though they'd followed their Nazi escort into the city, Fraulein Maria held a map on her knees as she explained their new plan for escape. If successful, they'd be out of the city soon after nightfall and, as she put it, "together again before we even have the chance to miss one another."

Like most plans, the scheme was relatively simple at its inception, but it became more complicated as it developed. Upon arriving at the station, Maria intended to make an excuse and usher the girls away from the car. She wondered if Eichel and his men would resist this request, but she finally concluded that the soldiers had little concern for a governess and the Captain's daughters.

"And I was worried about being a nuisance," Louisa grumbled dryly.

Maria chuckled. "The more difficult part will be creating an excuse for you and the boys, Captain."

"Just leave that to me."

She hesitated but knew that he could take command of the situation at the proper moment. Sighing in thought, she then explained that the two groups would escape through the streets of Innsbruck and rendezvous somewhere beyond the city limits. She glanced at her map once again before tapping the page with a satisfied smile.

"Lake Lans," she said decidedly. "That's where we should meet. It's only a few kilometers south of town, so we can walk there with ease, but it seems remote enough that no one would think to look for us there." She pointed to the small shaded circle on the map as Friedrich and Kurt peered over the back of the seat.

"But how will we find it? Surely there won't be street signs for a lake," Kurt sighed.

"Well, you can take the map, and-"

"You and the girls should keep the map, Fraulein. I know how to reach the lake," Georg said. His companions were silent for a moment, curious as to how he knew the location of their remote destination. The truth was that he'd spent many spring and summer days on the shores of the lake with Agathe. In the last few months, he'd learned how to share his memories of her with the children, but he worried that he could not bear such reminiscence on this particular night. Eager to redirect his children's attention, he said, "I am following the general scheme of your plan, Fraulein. Please continue."

Smiling softly, she turned to the children. "So that's where we'll meet. It's only three steps, really. When you leave the station, the river will be to the left. After you cross the bridge, it will be on your right, and then you follow it until you reach the lake."

"But, Fraulein Maria, what if we are noticed? What do we do if they ask us questions?" Brigitta wondered.

Maria pursed her lips. She hated to lie and loathed the idea of urging the children to be untruthful, but paradoxically she knew that deceit was the only path to their salvation. "I'm a terrible liar, but I suppose we could say that I am a teacher, or a neighbor taking you girls into town for an outing," she suggested.

"That might work," Liesl said. "Or we could simply let Gretl answer questions for us. She fooled the lieutenant when we were stopped by the side of the road."

The child giggled and tucked her head against Maria's shoulder, but the governess continued to praise her charges. "That was very impressive. And who knew that Marta could cry on cue?"

"Fraulein Helga couldn't stand the sight of my tears," Marta grinned. "So I used to cry all the time."

The children laughed while their father scowled, but Georg could not help but finally join in their merriment. He knew that this occasion should be somber. They were preparing to face considerable danger, but somehow it seemed right that their final moments together should be shared in laughter. He was afraid of all that the night might bring, and he wanted to remember them this way, smiling and laughing with their heads together, rather than trembling with fear.

"I suppose we'll need a lie, too, Father. In case we are stopped?" Friedrich asked.

"Just tell them that you were picking blue strawberries and lost track of the hour," Louisa teased, earning the laughter of her siblings and the ire of her brother.

"I did the best that I could."

Maria was confused by this exchange, for she'd not been told about the children's attempts to visit the Abbey during her absence, but Georg came to his son's rescue. "No one can ask for anything more from us. We'll do our best, and we'll all be together again before the night's over." The boy appreciated his father's kind words, but then the family noticed the broad metal gates of the station entrance arching before them. All discussion in the car ended abruptly.

As Maria looked out the window, she discovered that all of the rumors about Innsbruck Central Station's bustling activity had been true. Though she'd traveled on a few occasions with her parents and later with her uncle, she'd never encountered so many sights, smells, and sounds in a single location. People toting trunks and suitcases stood in long queues at the ticketing counters, and heavy white smoke gathered beneath the metal awnings covering the tracks. Boxes were stacked high near the curb, and the cacophony of voices, cries, and laughter seemed to crowd Maria's thoughts as she studied the scene around her.

"I would complain about the traffic, but I suppose this is exactly what we were hoping for," Georg mused, proceeding carefully through the crowds as he stayed close to the Nazi soldier's car in front of them.

"Yes," she nodded, awed by the elegant sculptures and lively crowds. "This is perfect. Look at the platform. The soldiers barely know what to do with so many people."

Georg followed the direction of her gaze and realized that she was right. In Salzburg, the German soldiers marched in disciplined formations, but no such order existed in this artery of Innsbruck. He noticed that a few men stood guard on tall platforms to watch over the congregation, but the armed presence was far less significant than he'd anticipated.

Like his siblings, Kurt absorbed the scene in quiet awe. "Do you really think that this will work?"

"Of course," Maria said optimistically. "We just have to play our parts and be careful not to draw any attention to ourselves. If we do exactly what we've discussed here in the car, I think we won't have any problems."

"And you'll be there at the lake? All of you?"

"All of us," she replied. "I promise."

Georg was reluctant to interrupt this tender scene, but their escorts' car had already slowed to a stop. Lieutenant Eichel emerged, taking in the chaos of the station before delivering an order to the two subordinate officers who joined him on the sidewalk.

"He's leaving!" Liesl exclaimed as Eichel walked away from the car and into the station.

"Perhaps he's just as shocked by all of this disorder as we are," Georg mused. Evading two privates barely out of primary school would be much easier than outsmarting their wily commanding officer, but after the unexpected surprises of the afternoon, he was wary of becoming hopeful once again.

Fritz, the younger of the two remaining officers, started towards the car. Without opening the door, Georg waved congenially before quietly murmuring, "Are you all ready?"

"I think so," Maria whispered.

He turned to his family and was overwhelmed by the emotions swimming in their eyes. Hope and love blossomed in their bright smiles, and he wished that he could stop the hands of time and embrace them all before they parted ways for this maddening adventure.

Louisa was watching the men on the curb. "The soldiers are watching us, Father."

He heard her, but he ignored the threat for only a moment so he could touch his girls' hands one last time before they departed. He wanted to believe that their plans would succeed, but still he could not fight the gnawing fear that infected his thoughts. A part of him worried that he might never see them again, and that thought was unbearable. He met Maria's gaze and saw her silently pleading with him to avoid the very thoughts that filled his mind. He nodded, a barely noticeable gesture to anyone but her, and then he looked at his girls and memorized the lovely features of their faces. "I love you," he said, pressing their hands. "Each and every one of you."

"We love you, too, Father," Marta said. He touched the child's cheek, but then he saw the shine of tears in Maria's eyes.

"No tears tonight," he said patronizingly. The children did not notice their governess' sorrow and nodded bravely, but Maria raised her eyes to his and managed a smile. "We'll all be together again very soon. I know it."

"We'll see you at the lake, Father. Next to the dock where you and Mother kept that little rowboat."

Liesl's words took Georg by surprise, for he did not realize that she had any memories of the family's earlier outings to the countryside. He was startled when her knowing words forced him to remember those beautiful days from the past. The memory nearly broke his heart, but he was saved by her gentle smile. Remembering himself, he grinned and nodded to assure her that he would, indeed, be there to greet her. "Be safe," he whispered, but finally he opened the door and assumed the role that had been assigned to him in this unhappy play. He chuckled good-naturedly as he stepped out of the car and called out, "Forgive me, gentlemen. I could not find my hat, and I then realized that my youngest daughter had hidden it from me!"

The men did not share his laughter. Maria watched as Georg began a conversation with the men before she scuttled the children out of the car. She dusted their coats and righted the hats on their heads, but she saw their anxiousness as they studied a small gang of passing soldiers.

"We'll be alright, Fraulein," Brigitta said confidently. "It's your turn to go on stage now."

Grateful for the girl's encouragement, Maria nodded and walked across the sidewalk. She cleared her throat to beg Georg's attention, and he turned to her with a frustrated scowl. He was a convincing actor, for the force of his gaze nearly made her forget that his pretended impatience was a part of their scheme.

"Yes, Fraulein?"

"I apologize for interrupting, Captain, but the girls wonder if they might be excused for a moment?"

Fritz interjected before Georg could reply. "Where do you think you are going, Fraulein?"

"Oh, the ladies' room, sir. The girls…well, you know how children can be. Especially after a long car ride," Maria said knowingly. She spoke with charm and glanced back at the girls with a humble smile. "We'll only be a moment, I assure you. The children are eager to spend as much time with their father as possible before his train leaves."

Fritz considered her request and finally said, "You'll return promptly."

Maria grinned and replied, "Of course. And thank you for understanding. Come along, girls." She touched Brigitta's shoulder and reached for Marta's hand, and Louisa and Liesl followed with little Gretl between them. The girls were desperate to turn back for one last glimpse of their father, but they remembered the instructions they'd been given in the car. No one was to think that anything was out of the ordinary. With that in mind, they casually walked away from the car with their governess, and they hoped that the world believed they were not afraid.

Georg watched them until they finally disappeared in the mass of people milling about the station. He nearly gasped when he lost sight of them, but he fought to keep his own fears at bay. Like his daughters, he pretended that nothing was amiss, and a quick glance to his side confirmed that Friedrich and Kurt were following his example.

The young soldier rolled his eyes at the petty distractions that were complicating his day. Eager to direct attention away from Maria and the girls, Georg turned to his sons. "Friedrich, go with your brother and take my bags from the car. Ask a gentleman with a trolley to deliver them to my train at Platform…"

"Four," Fritz supplied hesitantly.

"Platform Four," Georg echoed with a grateful nod of his head. "Act quickly, please." The boys hurried back to the car, happy to leave the soldiers' watch, but Georg remained on the curb. "I suppose I should also move my car. I've hired a driver to take Fraulein Rainer and the children back to Salzburg tomorrow, but I can hardly leave it here for the night."

"Private Herrmann will take it for you," Fritz said, nodding to his colleague and sneering smugly as he imagined he'd caught the Captain in a scheme for escape. Herrmann took Georg's keys and started the motor as soon as the boys finished removing the bags from the trunk. With a brief salute to his comrade in arms, the soldier pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner.

"It seems that everything is arranged," Georg said before touching the lapels of his traveling coat with a frown.

"What is it now, Captain?"

"I only realized that I don't yet have my tickets."

"Lieutenant Eichel has gone to collect them for you. It will only be a moment," Fritz responded. "I have a new itinerary for you that includes the name of your contact in Bremerhaven. Guards will be on the train to ensure that you meet the proper parties, but the lieutenant assumed you would like a dossier regarding your new colleagues in the navy of the Third Reich."

"How very thoughtful," Georg answered. "May I see this document?"

"Of course. I will retrieve it from the car."

Georg watched the man turn on his heel and walk down the curb. The soldier's car was only fifteen yards away, but Georg recognized the opportunity the moment it was presented. Without a word, he stepped back to his sons and touched their shoulders before walking into the throng of people. He moved soundlessly until he realized that he could make as much noise as he pleased; the crush of the crowd ensured that no one would hear their footsteps, and with a glance at Kurt and Friedrich, he picked up his pace and hurried toward the elegant gates of Innsbruck Central Station.

He counted the seconds under his breath, certain that they had only a handful of moments before Fritz realized they'd slipped away. He imagined the young soldier discovering the empty patch of curb, and he could almost see the boy frantically searching for the one man he'd been asked to guard. Georg and the boys ran through the gates and crossed the busy street, and soon he heard the shrill report of a whistle carrying over the city from the station. The frantic bleating of that single note was unmistakable; Fritz had realized that they were gone, and he was desperate to correct his error.

"Hurry," Georg murmured, nodding to a street and turning abruptly off the main road. He knew that running would draw attention to their actions, but he also realized that they needed to create as much distance as possible between themselves and the station. The boys seemed to understand his goal and walked briskly to match his pace, but they lingered in an alley for only a brief moment.

"The whistles," Friedrich panted. "They're looking for us now."

"That was inevitable, I suppose," Georg said. "Take off your hats and throw them in the bin." He nodded to the trash receptacle behind them. He noticed the confusion in their eyes, but they did not ask questions. He explained that they must do everything they can to become less recognizable to the men who were pursuing them.

Accepting this explanation, Kurt shrugged off his jacket and turned it inside out before running a hand through his neatly combed hair. His sunny locks stood at attention, but he smiled brightly at the ingenuity of his own idea. The dark seams of his coat were barely noticeable, and Georg was pleased to see that the boy's coat was, indeed, a different color on the inside.

"We'll have to hurry now," he said, peering around the corner. The streets were relatively empty, but the whistles were still screaming from the station.

The boys followed him back onto the streets, and they were careful to avoid making eye contact with anyone who passed them on the street. Kurt remembered Fraulein Maria's simple plan and silently whispered the words to himself as a litany: "Keep the river to the right until the bridge, then to the left, and straight to the lake."

Georg had not traveled through Innsbruck in several years, but it seemed that he remembered the route to the lake from memory. Agathe's laughter filled his heart as he traveled the familiar path. On any other night, he would have welcomed the memory as a bewitching compass, but this night was different. He could not bear to remember her beautiful sighs while he led her sons into danger.

As he crossed a bridge over the river, he was grateful for the darkness. It hid them from their enemies but also shielded his sons from the sight of their father's fear. It had been easy to appear confident on his submarines. The men on the ships had been his to protect, but he did not know them. They were nameless and faceless, and the distance that separated them made it easy to feign hope in the face of danger, but there was no such distance to protect his heart as they raced through Innsbruck. The young men turning to him for guidance were forged from his own flesh and blood. They looked to him with their mother's eyes, and their youthful smiles betrayed the fact that they had long and wonderful lives waiting for them beyond this terrible night. They were not faceless, and they were not nameless. They were his sons, and he wept for the fact that he was delivering them further into the dark.

Distracted by his thoughts, he did not see the man in front of him until they collided on the sidewalk. The boys gasped, surprised by this sudden interruption in their journey, but they looked on in silent horror when they realized that their father had toppled a Nazi soldier.

The man collected himself from the pavement and hastily inspected the culprit who'd knocked him to the ground. Georg was silent as the man scrutinized their faces. He knew that he should say something—anything—to fill the silence that oppressed them, but he lacked the creativity to think of an excuse. He was assaulted by fear and watched as the man surveyed his children with a questioning eye.

To his surprise, Friedrich stood to attention and raised his arm in a salute to Hitler. The gesture seemed to wake Georg from his trance, but then he watched as Friedrich quickly said, "Excuse my uncle, Officer. He did not see you in the darkness."

The soldier's curiosity was piqued, but he returned Friedrich's salute and scowled. "It seems that your uncle would not see his own feet in the darkness."

"He is tired. We have had a long day in town and are only just returning home for the evening."

"What have you been doing all day?"

"Our father, my uncle's brother, owns a farm. We brought a cow to market this afternoon."

"Cows?"

"One of our cows calved last night," Friedrich replied. "Another reason for my uncle's weariness."

"And yet your uncle is silent," the soldier noted, studying Georg with sharp curiosity. Georg searched frantically for a reply, but Friedrich came to his rescue.

"He is mute."

"Mute? Surely not," the man scoffed, but Friedrich and Kurt nodded solemnly.

"He has not spoken since the Great War," Kurt explained, catching the theme of his brother's fiction.

"He inhaled a toxin in the trenches. It scarred his vocal chords and…"

The soldier mistook Friedrich's stumbled words for emotional sentiment and nodded solemnly. "I know the rest." Surprised that such a lie had been believed, Georg marveled at his children and wondered how they'd concocted such a tale, but he followed the thread of their scheme and touched his neck as a silent apology when the soldier looked at him once again. "I knew a few men who suffered that fate," the man in the uniform sighed. "Where are you bound this evening?"

"Lans," Friedrich replied. "Near the lake."

The officer considered this response and smiled. "I have a car that is only a block away from here, and my duties for the night will take me through Lans. May I offer a ride to a former soldier and his family?"

"That's not necessary," Friedrich said hesitantly. He had not anticipated this development, and he worried that he could not maintain this ruse for much longer.

"Please. I'd be happy to show the people of Innsbruck that German soldiers respect the sacrifices of Austrian heroes."

Georg was grateful for his imagined ailment, for he surely would have balked in outrage at the ridiculousness of that statement. He'd seen how German soldiers respected Austrian heroes in Salzburg: by draping flags over their doors and smugly branding them as cowards over champagne cocktails. However, he remembered their scheme and knew that he should not aggravate the soldier, so he met the man's eyes and nodded to accept the invitation. He also tapped Friedrich on the shoulder and made a gesture of shoving before opening his hands with a small smile.

"I believe my uncle is apologizing for colliding with you on the street, sir," Friedrich translated with a grin.

"Not to worry," the soldier replied. "And my name is Guntram Kalb."

"I am Rupert, this is Werner, and my uncle is Johannes," Friedrich explained. "And with a last name like Kalb, it is no surprise that you understand the pains of calving."

"I grew up on a farm. It is near Munich. Come, we will fetch my car and deliver you to the shores of Lans," the young man said cheerfully. The unlikely group walked along the avenue; Georg remained on alert, fearful that the soldier would suddenly turn on them. Guntram was recalling the joys of farm life as they rounded the corner and approached his small truck. The familiar Nazi flags bedecked the front hood, but the boys climbed into the car as though Officer Kalb was an old family friend. Choking his fears and anger, Georg settled into the passenger's seat and watched Kalb put his car into gear while explaining one unfortunate calf's breached delivery.

The drive was relatively short. Georg watched the roads, eager to glimpse Maria and the girls, but he did not see them. When the signs for Lans became more frequent, Friedrich implored their host to slow the car. He assured Kalb that they could easily walk for the rest of the journey, and Georg watched as his son shook hands with a Nazi soldier.

Kalb waved goodbye before departing into the darkness. When the sound of his engine had finally faded into silence, Georg turned on his sons. "Werner, Rupert? Would you care to explain what just happened?"

Friedrich glanced at his shoes. "Those were the names of our grandfathers."

"I am well aware of that."

"Well, Fraulein Maria has told us all about growing upon a farm. That's where I got the idea for raising cows. It seemed like an easy story to believe," the boy answered.

"And my muteness?"

"Alex Koch," Friedrich explained. "He's a boy from school. His uncle is mute from the Great War. He's always telling people about it, and I thought it would excuse your silence."

"No one ever says Alex is a liar," Kurt supplied supportively.

"Are you terribly angry, Father?" Friedrich asked. "I'm certain that you are boiling mad over that salute, but I didn't know..."

Much to the boys' surprise, their father began to laugh. In fact, he clutched his sides and laughed until tears touched his eyes. He saw their shocked faces, and when he finally collected a breath, he said, "I'm not angry."

"You're not?"

"No. Because now I can't help but think how wonderful it will be to tell everyone we meet that a Nazi soldier helped us escape from Innsbruck Central Station. And if Hitler ever hears about that, I hope he also learns that his ridiculous salute was your ticket into that fool's car."

Realizing the humor in the situation, Kurt and Friedrich joined in their father's laughter. A few moments later, Georg touched their shoulders and chuckled, "I must say, Friedrich, your skills as a liar have greatly improved. Were you an apprentice to Uncle Max?"

Friedrich chuckled, but he shook his head. "I was surprised by how easy it was to tell such lies. I suppose this means that Fraulein Maria will make me the first in line for confession this week."

"I imagine so," Georg mused, but the mention of Maria's name brought him crashing back to earth. His smile evaporated as he thought of the challenges his daughters and Maria might still be facing in the endless dark.

The boys sobered when they, too, remembered the threats posed by this night. Kurt chewed his lip before looking up at his father. "I didn't see Fraulein Maria or the girls on the street. Did you?"

"No," Georg answered. He was staring at the empty length of unpaved road that stretched out before them to disappear into the trees. He heard only the haunting sounds of nightfall echoing through the woods.

"But we're still early," Friedrich reasoned. "If we hadn't ridden in a car, it would have taken ages for us to reach this place."

Kurt and Georg considered this explanation, but it did not quell the fear that pulled at their hearts. The road was deserted, and full spring blooms vaulted overhead to fill the canopy of the forest. With a pang in his heart, Georg recalled Gretl's fear of the dark, and he lamented that there was nothing he could do to comfort her.

When he turned back to his sons, he saw that they shared his fears, and he remembered that he must remain strong for them. "We're only a few minutes away from the spot Liesl mentioned earlier. Let's walk there."

"And then what?"

"Then? Then we'll wait, I suppose." The boys seemed unsatisfied by this response, but he touched their shoulders before leading them down the road towards the lake.

They walked mostly in silence and finally reached the clearing. The lake was hidden in the darkness, but Georg could see the shadows of the trees and the twinkling reflection of star shine on the water's surface. He walked until he found the dock from Liesl's memories. It was exactly as he remembered it: small and decrepit but sturdy underfoot.

A small bench was perched on the sloping embankment beside the water. Friedrich was too restless to relax. He paced the shoreline and kicked at a few pebbles, but he was quiet for the better part of an hour. Kurt, on the other hand, seemed desperate to be distracted from his own thoughts and asked simple questions in hopes of creating a conversation.

This was how the moon found them when it peeked out from behind the clouds some two hours later. Georg sat with Kurt while Friedrich wrestled his thoughts near the tree line, and all three men tried to ignore the painful fact that Maria and the girls had not yet arrived.

"How long has it been now, Father?" Friedrich asked quietly.

"Two hours."

"And you still think that we shouldn't go look for them?"

Georg was growing impatient with the child's insisting desire to search the uncharted woods, but he restrained his temper. He knew that Friedrich was frightened, just as he knew that Kurt was terrified. He understood their emotions because he recognized them in himself. "What if we leave this place, and as soon as we've gone marching into the woods, they arrive to find that we're not here. Then what will they think?"

"We could split up. Kurt and I could go-"

"No," he shouted. "It was foolish enough to split up in the first place. I'm not mad enough to do it again."

The sharp bite of his voice startled the boys, and they sat closer together as they turned again towards the lake. Georg softened when he saw the slight tremble of their shoulders, and again he sat beside them on the rickety bench by the water.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. His voice was barely a whisper, but he knew they'd heard him. Kurt's arm wove through his, and Friedrich welcomed the warm weight of Georg's hand on his shoulder. "It's only-"

The wind rustled the trees, and for a moment, Georg imagined that he heard voices. His first instinct was to run for the woods for fear of being discovered, but a hopeful part of his heart wondered if it was Maria and the girls. He stood still, hoping to hear the sound once more, but then the silence engulfed them. Georg had been tricked by his own imagination.

He turned back to the boys and realized they'd not heard the whispers in the woods. He tried to shake himself from his own reverie and remembered what he'd wanted to say. "It's only that I'm frightened, just like you, of all that might happen tonight."

"What are your favorite things?" Kurt asked after a moment's hesitation.

"What?"

"Your favorite things. Fraulein Maria says you'll feel better if you think of your favorite things when you're scared," he explained. He blushed, realizing the childishness of his own suggestion. "It's only an idea, of course."

Georg had heard the children singing that silly song with their governess on too many occasions to be counted. He savored at the memory and took refuge in its warmth, and he surprised his sons by answering the question.

"The smell of the ocean," he said thoughtfully. "The sound you hear when you put your ear to a shell on the beach. The old Victrola your mother once kept near the fireplace. Whistles, though you must hate to hear me say it," he winked. The boys grinned, and he was encouraged to continue. "I like guitar strings and the taste of ice cream in the summer time. And I love each of my children."

"You can't have people on your list of favorite things," Kurt scoffed.

"How can you not?" Georg countered. "What good are all of these wonderful things if you've no one to share them with?"

The argument was sound, and the boys did not raise a complaint, but again the wind stirred the trees. Georg heard the soft echo of voices from the forest once more, and when he turned towards the dirt-covered road, he realized that he had not been mistaken.

Louisa and Brigitta led the way with Marta walking between them. Liesl carried Gretl on her hip, and Georg heard the excited chorus of their gasps when they saw their father and the boys waiting for them by the lake. The moonlight revealed the brilliance of their smiles, and Georg closed his eyes with a prayer of thanksgiving.

The boys darted up the road when they noticed their sisters, and Georg watched as they all clung to one another in celebration. Their shrieks of laughter echoed across the still waters, but Georg did not have the heart to ask for their silence. When he finally reached the children, the girls kissed his cheeks and clung to his waist until he finally sank to his knees and held them each in his arms once again. They were talking all at once, and while he caught syllables and phrases that suggested a great adventure, he could not digest the words and sentences that comprised the story. He felt only the warmth of their embraces and the strength of their arms around him. They were alive and laughing and warm and loud, and they were finally safe.

When he regained his footing, he dusted off his trousers and lifted his eyes towards the heavens. He saw the stars and the steeples of the trees, but then his attention was seized by something far lovelier than the simple beauties of the earth. She was standing by the water as she watched the family's tender reunion, and she laughed when Marta gleefully kissed Kurt's cheek.

He hurried to her side without thinking and pulled her into his arms without preamble. He was not gentle; he needed to feel her so he could be certain that this moment was real. He held her tightly, savoring the quick beat of her breath tattooing the hollow of his neck and the crush of her breasts against his chest, and tears pricked his eyes as he finally released the fears that had gripped his soul for too many hours.

"I was afraid I'd never see you again," he confessed, breathing the words into her hair, but she stepped back with a smile that took his breath away.

"As I said this morning, Captain, I had no intention of saying goodbye to you today."

He saw tears glittering in her eyes, too, and he touched her cheek in time to catch one on his thumb. She blushed with a smile, but his finger drifted over the apple of her cheek. He was mesmerized by the look in her eyes, for it was the same honest and perfect gaze that had caught his heart on another starlit night like this one. He saw her love for him, and he was humbled by the force of its beauty.

He wanted to ask her questions, but he knew that the children would soon crave their attention once again, so he drew her to him for another embrace. This time his touch was tender. His arms slipped around her waist in a silent question, and he shared his strength with her as they savored the music of the children's laughter. He felt the rhythm of her heartbeat and the curve of her smile against his cheek, just as he relished the questioning glance of her hands on his shoulders before she finally surrendered to his arms. Her heartbeat thrummed against his chest like a promise, and he knew that this was the truth that mattered.

_A/N: 1) Hope y'all enjoyed this one, as it was such fun to write. I spent about four hours researching schemes for getting in and out of Innsbruck, which in turn made me really want to go to Austria, which in turn led me to look into plane fares to Austria, which in turn reminded me that I do, indeed, need to finish grad school before I can ever afford a trip to Austria. 2) FYI: Kalb means "calf" in German. 3) This chapter was originally meant to be focused on Maria, but I had this idea for the boys tricking a Nazi soldier three weeks ago and could not let it go. Please prepare for a hearty dose of Maria's perspective in the next chapter. 4) Fun fact: I listened to "Freedom," by Anthony Hamilton, about 30 times while writing this chapter. It's gorgeous. 5) Please accept my usual but heartfelt thanks for your lovely comments and encouragements. You're all amazing! –C._


	8. An Odd Sort of Communion

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this work of fiction and receive no profits from this story._

Maria might have been concerned that the children were watching them, but the night was on their side. Sheltered by the darkness, they lingered a moment longer, and Maria tried to memorize the small wonders of his touch. She felt the soft trail of his fingers dancing across her shoulders, and she was intoxicated by the warm roughness of his cheek against her brow. For the first time in hours, she felt safe, and she folded her arms around him in hopes that the feeling might last forever.

They were torn apart by the distant growl of a motor engine. Maria pulled away with her heart in her throat, but Georg acted quickly; without a word, he waved to the children and led them behind the tree line. Maria clasped Gretl's hand and followed them into the hiding place, and together they watched as a rusty truck sped down the same road that had delivered the family to their small haven in the forest.

The sounds of the night seemed quieter when the truck finally disappeared over the horizon. The crickets still chirped, and the wind still tumbled through the trees, but it seemed like the world was waiting with bated breath to see what else might emerge from the shadows.

The dust settled on the road once again, but then Maria noticed Georg's hand lying restlessly on Marta's shoulder. She smiled sadly as realization took hold of her. "We can't stay here tonight, can we?"

"No," he answered gently. "We can't."

"But surely they won't look for us here…"

Friedrich and Kurt studied their shoes, but Georg offered them a comforting smile before turning back to Maria. "I suppose it's time for you to learn how we managed to leave Innsbruck, Fraulein." And so he began to tell her a story. Maria and the girls listened, and their eyes widened as he outlined the clever lies that had paved their way to Lake Lans. Maria glanced at the boys in disbelief, but as Georg explained their ride in the foolish Nazi's car, she began to understand his fears.

"They're likely turning Innsbruck upside down in search for us, and it won't be long before Kalb realizes his mistake. He'll come back to this place, and we can't be here when he arrives." He seemed to notice the fear that clutched their anxious hearts. "We only need to distance ourselves from the main road."

"Where will we go, Father?" Louisa wondered.

Georg considered the question. "We can't return to Innsbruck, and we have no way of knowing what lies in the other direction, so I suppose that leaves only one path for us to travel."

Maria followed his gaze and looked into the black depths of the forest. A few insects chirped and hissed in the darkness, but the wind was the most powerful voice of this evening chorus. The arms of the trees groaned as the gusts grew stronger. Friedrich pointed to a small winding trail that began only a few paces away from their hiding place. The path was barely visible before it disappeared into the shadows, but the mouth of the forest seemed to open in curious invitation.

Recognizing the family's fear and hopeful to help them through this difficult night, Maria opened her hand to Gretl. "Come on, children. We'll think of it as an adventure." The children smiled, warmed by the sunlight in her voice, and soon the crunch of their footsteps joined the moonlight symphony of the forest.

They walked for an hour down the narrow pathway. Wide leaves filled the canopy to block the guiding light of the stars; the children occasionally stumbled, hooking their toes on the odd root or stepping awkwardly on a stone, but Maria walked with certainty. She'd grown up in the mountains and knew the science of these rugged trails. She touched the thin necks of the trees as she felt her way along the path, and she was the first to smile when they finally stepped into a broad, sloping field.

The clouds had cleared to reveal a sea of silver stars, and pearled moonlight silhouetted the mountains that encircled the valley. The children admired the landscape with smiles of relief, and Brigitta breathlessly exclaimed, "It looks like a farm!"

Maria smiled to realize that the girl was right. Goats and sheep slept lazily in the fields at the base of the sloping hill, and a small cabin was nestled against a barn on the other side of the field. She could barely see in the darkness, but she realized that a crop was growing in the field that separated them from the little rustic cabin.

"Should we see if anyone is at home?" Louisa wondered.

Georg studied the scene with a critical eye, but finally he asked Maria to keep watch over the children while he explored the terrain. She agreed without hesitation, and she and the children watched as Georg walked down the sloping hill to approach the cabin. A cow lowed from the nearby barn, and the mournful, echoing sound seemed to startle Gretl.

"My mother used to ask cows for directions," Maria said, eager to till their anxious silence with a smile. As the words left her lips, she realized her own astonishment that such a dusty memory should come to mind, and she was even more surprised that she'd voiced it aloud.

"Why would she do that?" Kurt asked.

"Because it made me laugh," she said, shrugging cheerily before sitting on the dewy grass. "One day we walked into town to buy my father a new pair of boots, and she stopped by the fence to ask if any of the dairy cows could point us towards the cobbler's shop."

"Then what happened?" Marta asked, crawling onto Maria's lap as the rest of the children joined their governess on the ground. Maria folded Marta into her arms, feeling the weary weight of the girl's head against her shoulder.

Louisa answered the question with authority. "Nothing happened, silly. Cows can't talk."

"I don't know about that, Louisa. Sometimes cows can be very wise. One of them stopped chewing her grass as soon as we approached her, and she bowed her head to the left after Mother asked the question."

"Really?" Gretl gasped.

"Oh yes. Of course the cobbler's shop was to the right, and not the left, but one can't expect cows to know everything," Maria grinned. The children chuckled at her joke, grateful for the distraction and happy to laugh once again, but Maria looked across the valley. The house on the edge of the field was still dark, but she could almost see the faint silhouette of Georg's form as he walked towards the barn.

He returned several minutes later. "The house is empty," he said, kneeling beside the family, "and there are no cars or horses in the stable. Only a few cows."

"We heard," Kurt mused, drawing a few sleepy chuckles from his siblings.

"I think we could stay here for the night. The barn will be good shelter, and we need to rest before morning." Maria watched as his eyes swept over the children, and together they realized that any shelter would do. The day had been a strain for all of them, but the children were exhausted. "There's a cellar behind the barn. The farmer's kept a small stock of cheese and preserves on hand, so we'll have something to eat, as well."

"Isn't that stealing?" Gretl asked worriedly.

"I'll leave some money under his door to pay for what we've taken," Georg said. His daughter smiled in approval, and Georg scooped her into his arms before starting down the hill once again. Maria followed him with the rest of the children, but she hesitated at the edge of the field to open her hand over the tall weeds. A sprig of wheat scratched her palm, and she almost smiled at the familiar sensation.

"There's a lantern by the door," Georg explained as they entered the barn, "but I don't think we should light it. It's best if no one knows that we're here."

The family explored their temporary home with curiosity, but Maria was spellbound by her surroundings. It had been years since she'd seen the inside of a barn, and the sweet bouquet of the hay and oats seemed to transport her to another time. Fat bales of hay were stacked against the wall, and Maria watched as Georg pulled one into the stable stall and cut the bindings with his knife. She recognized his intention as he spread the straw over the floor, so she gathered a few saddle blankets before calling out to the children.

"Bedtime, children."

The little ones dove into the straw bed with gleeful giggles, but their sleepiness caught up with them in only a moment's time. Liesl and Friedrich covered their younger siblings with their cloaks before curling up on the blankets beside them, but Brigitta and Louisa hesitated at the door of the stall.

"Darlings, if it was good enough for the son of God, it will certainly do for the rest of us."

Brigitta blushed at her governess' gentle teasing, but then she and Louisa joined their brothers and sisters on the floor. The girls found that the bed was softer than they'd expected, and they sighed contentedly as they drew their coats closer to their shoulders. A whippoorwill sang in the distance, but then the night was silent as the children drifted away to their dreams.

Maria relished this brief moment of peace, but she soon realized that Georg had left their company. She peered into the shadows beyond the barn in search of him before the sound of rusted hinges seized her attention. She hurried around the side of the barn and breathed a sigh of relief when Georg stepped out of the cellar with an armful of food.

"I'm afraid the chef is a few moments too late," she smiled, leading him back to arching entrance of the barn. "They fell asleep the moment they laid down. I don't think they'd wake for all the chocolate in Switzerland."

He chuckled and peered over her shoulder. The children were fast asleep, and he smiled when he heard the distinct cadence of Kurt's snoring.

"I can't say that I'm surprised," he mused. "It's been quite a day."

"It certainly has."

They were quiet for a moment, but then he asked if she was hungry. She replied that she was famished, so together they sat on the stoop of the barn with a small picnic between them. Georg opened a jar of strawberry preserves, and Maria used his pocketknife to slice a few pieces of cheese. A distant pop distracted Maria from her task, and she glanced to her side and realized that Georg had also found a bottle of wine in the farmer's cellar.

"Our friend the farmer is also an amateur vintner," he explained, passing the bottle beneath his nose. "A rather good one, too."

"Where on earth did he find grapes in the mountains?" she marveled, nodding to the rocky peaks that surrounded them.

"That's no concern of mine," Georg chuckled. "I'm only happy that my unwitting host is resourceful." He sipped the wine before smiling in satisfaction. "He's also a man of remarkably good taste."

Maria grinned, but then he wiped his handkerchief around the lip of the bottle and passed it to her. "Oh, no, Captain. I shouldn't."

"Please," he said. "The bottle is barely half full, but it's very good."

She considered the invitation, but then she caught the gleam of the stars in his eyes and sighed in defeat. She weighed the bottle in her hand and mirrored the way he'd gripped its thin neck as she tipped it to her lips. The wine was surprisingly cool and sweet. As it slipped over her tongue, she marveled that nothing had ever been so wonderfully replenishing.

She knew that he was watching her. She felt the fire in her cheeks; it was wild and ferocious, delightful in its fury as it burned from her soul. Smiling shyly, she returned the bottle and reached for another slice of cheese.

"Do you know what I find strange, Fraulein?"

"No, sir," she answered, laughing softly. "I'm sure I don't."

"It seems strange that my 'nephew,' Rupert, learned all there is to know about farming from his governess, but until today I never knew that you grew up on a farm."

"It was a very long time ago," she murmured, but then she met his gaze in the fading moonlight. "What would you like to know?"

"I didn't mean to pry-"

"But you're curious," she said. He did not deny it. "I don't mind talking about it. It's only that there isn't very much to tell."

He drank the wine, taking advantage of the silence to form a question, but then he handed her the bottle once again. "Where were you born?"

"Starting at the very beginning, I see." She was rewarded by his smile. She savored another sip of wine, but she was intoxicated by the tender rustle of the wind sweeping over the fields. "I grew up in a place very much like this, but on the southern side of Vienna. My father was a farmer, and my mother helped him tend to the barley crop that grew near our house."

For the longest time, she'd feared that it would be too difficult to revisit the memories of her childhood, but she quickly discovered that was easy to talk with him. She spoke without thinking and shared details that she'd thought were long forgotten: her small bedroom in the loft of the cabin with a window that opened to the stars, the fragrant pouch of tobacco her father kept in his breast pocket, the way her mother would leave her shoes next to the fireplace on cold winter mornings. Georg listened carefully as she spoke, and the soft curve of his smile encouraged her to open her heart and show him its precious treasures.

"Mother loved to sing, but my father was the one who was good at it. We used to sing nursery rhymes to the animals during our morning chores, just to pass the time." She smiled brightly at her own memories, but then Georg heard her slight, trembling sigh. He frowned when he anticipated the next chapter of her story. "They died when I was six. The same sickness took them both within a week of each other."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, but she met his eyes with a sorrowful smile.

"As I said, it was a very long time ago."

Silence blossomed, binding their tongues and their hearts as it filled the empty space between them. Maria knew that they were each holding court with the ghosts of their pasts, but the thought of all that had been lost made her think of all that she did not yet know.

"The children like to talk about their mother, but their stories are so much like the ones I have of my parents. Warm and sweet, but more like a picture postcard than the memory of an actual person." She spoke cautiously, afraid of how he might respond to her words, but he only leaned against the strong wooden frame of the stable door. She brushed her hair behind her ear, but finally she asked her question in a voice that barely surpassed a whisper. "Will you tell me about her?"

Georg rolled the glass bottle between his palms, savoring the remembered taste of the wine on his lips, and he thought of her smile as she'd passed the bottle back to him. He'd been fighting his memories of Agathe for the better part of the evening, but he knew in his heart that he'd been keeping them at bay for much longer than that. His darling wife lived like a prisoner in the shadowed corners of his heart, and while he'd managed to share a few stories with his children, the pain of the past was often too strong to overcome.

He thought of that pain, and then he strove to peer through the darkness and view the woman sitting beside him. Maria had given him honesty, and she'd gifted him with a truth that exposed the tender, scarred surface of her heart.

She seemed embarrassed by his silence, for she quietly promised that he did not have to answer her questions if he did not want to, but her voice stirred him from his thoughts.

"I don't mind, Fraulein. I trust you." That was enough to still her stammered apology, and the moon captured the beautiful shine of hope that filled her eyes. He smiled, but then he considered the odd sort of communion that they were sharing. They were feasting on memories and sharing wine so that each sip was like a kiss. If he could not be honest with her, he knew that he could not be honest with anyone. "In answer to your question…she was lovely. That's the only word that comes to mind."

"How did you meet her?" Maria wondered, leaning forward with her cheek cradled on her hand.

"We met at a ball in London. She was only eighteen years old, and it seemed I was the last person in the room she wanted to talk to." Maria grinned at the notion, and he chuckled to recall the throng of suitors clamoring for Agathe's hand on that particular evening. "I'm sure I made a spectacle of myself trying to capture her attention. But she was beautiful, so my stupid, boyish foolishness seemed like a worthy sacrifice."

"It's difficult to imagine you looking foolish, Captain."

"It's quite possible, Fraulein, I assure you." He remembered the way he'd boasted to the young debutante in his arms as they waltzed across the dance floor, the warm press of her hand against his shoulder and the soft satin of her glove slipping over his palm. The young Miss Whitehead had the eye of every man in the room, but after a single waltz, she wanted nothing more than to dance with the handsome hero from Austria. He remembered his wife's golden hair with a smile. "Louisa looks more like her mother with each passing day."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. But there's something of her in each of them. Friedrich inherited her stubbornness, but Brigitta claimed the Whitehead's talent for academia. Marta's sweetness, Liesl's laugh…those are all gifts from their mother." He looked into the shadows where his children slept and heard the music of every breath. "I suppose that's why it was so difficult after she died."

"What do you mean?"

He scowled, unsure of how to explain his feelings. "It felt like some horrible joke. She was the first person I ever loved, and I watched her die." He spoke in a precise tone, as though the words were memorized, but she saw the storm of doubt and sadness that stirred his heart. Maria did not speak; she wanted him to know that she would listen, that she would be waiting for him when he returned from that sad and distant island in his thoughts. When he finally spoke again, his voice was dark and heavy, tethered to some incredible weight in his soul. "I put her in the ground, and then I realized that the Lord had left me seven perfect reminders of everything he'd taken away from me."

Still she said nothing. He fought with his heart for a moment longer before washing his hand over his face. "That they should love me at all is a constant surprise."

"You love them," she answered softly. "That makes it easy."

He lingered on her words, but Maria seized his silence and asked another question. "Did she sing?"

He smiled fondly. "She loved it, but like your mother, she wasn't very good at it."

"So they received that from you," Maria noted. He lifted his eyes to hers, and she realized that he'd never before considered such a notion. "Their voices. That's a gift you gave them. Just like Kurt's sarcasm or Gretl's thoughtfulness. And of course they all have your talent for strategy, as a dozen poor governesses can attest." She saw the corners of his lips quiver towards a smile. "You've given your children tremendous gifts and talents, Captain, and you forget that you are a wonderful father."

"A wonderful father who is currently parading his children in front of Nazi snipers."

"A wonderful father who is teaching his children the value of courage and the truth about principles." She saw that he wanted to reject her argument, but she held up a hand with a stubborn smile. "Please accept the compliment, Captain, and know that I'd never lie to you."

He bowed his head, his shoulders trembling with laughter that only she could hear, but then he looked up at the silvered sky with a sigh. He heard the whisper of her fingers against her skirt, the scrape of her shoes against the pavement, and the quiet rhythm of each breath that left her body. "May I ask you another question?"

"I think you just did," she teased, but she nodded and sampled another bit of cheese.

"How old were you when you entered the convent?" he asked quietly.

She hesitated, but only for a moment. "I was eighteen."

"And you were certain that you wanted to become a nun?"

"Oh yes," she said, but she detected the caution in her own tone. "I decided to join the sisters when I was nine years old. I used to watch them in their gardens and listen to them sing, and I knew that I wanted to be one of them."

"Have you ever…" It was his turn to hesitate, but Maria turned and studied him as she watched him wrestle with whatever he'd hoped to say. "Never mind, it's unimportant."

"No, please," she breathed.

He met her gaze, but still he shook his head. "It's not my place to ask, Fraulein. I shouldn't pry. I only…I only just realized what a terrible thing I've done in dragging you into all of this."

"I wasn't dragged into anything, Captain. Unless my memory deceives me, I had to beg for you to agree to let me come in the first place," she answered hotly. He scowled, but soon his lips gave way to a smile.

"It doesn't change the facts, Fraulein. You had a life, a plan, hopes and dreams all of your own. I know that you were planning to return to the Abbey later this year. You've always spoken with such certainty about the life you wanted to lead, and yet now here you are, sitting in the middle of nowhere with me."

She looped her arms around her knees and cocked her head so she might see him in the moonlight. "Yes, it's true. I had all sorts of plans," she conceded. "But I no longer have the certainty that you think I have." She saw his confusion, but she looked back at her hands.

"What do you mean?"

She blushed, afraid of how she would continue, but then the words were alive on her tongue and hungry to be heard. "How can I be certain of that life, the one I wanted so very much before, when I'm here, as you say, 'sitting in the middle of nowhere with you,' and there's no other place I'd rather be?"

The question waited between them, patient and forgiving, but finally Maria lifted her gaze to his and saw that the midnight moon was at home in his eyes. She waited a moment for him to speak, but then she realized that she was terrified of what he might say. She remembered the pain that had consumed her after she returned from the Abbey to learn that he'd given his heart to another, and she was certain that she could not endure that agony again.

His lips parted in response, but she smoothed her hands along the planes of her thighs as she hurriedly rose to her feet.

"Wait-"

"Forgive me, Captain. I didn't realize how late it is, and I know that I should go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow, I'm sure." She suddenly regretted that she'd taken that moment to negotiate with the moonlight, for she realized that he could see the quiet, desperate pleading in her eyes. He opened his mouth once again to protest, but finally he accepted her flimsy excuse with a gentle nod of his head.

She started her journey back towards the makeshift straw bed, but she hesitated when she realized that she had one more thing to say. She hoped it would return them to the place they'd been before she'd uttered those unbearably honest words, and she clasped her hands as she said, "Before I go, I do hope you'll let me apologize for what happened this morning."

"What on earth are you talking about, Fraulein?" He'd adopted that tone of frustrated impatience, but she knew that he was curious. It was evident in his eyes; he would not tear them away from her.

"For what happened today. In the nursery. You told me that you and the Baroness had cancelled your engagement, and I…lost my temper for other reasons. I realize now that I should have told you how sorry I am."

"You are?"

She almost detected a note of surprise in his voice, but she tried not to linger on it. "Of course. I can't imagine what you must be feeling." She held her hands stiffly by her sides before shrugging in defeat. "I only want you to be happy."

He turned back to her, a silhouette trapped in the midnight shadows, but his voice called out to her like a song. "You mean that, don't you?"

"Yes."

He pressed his palms to the rough-hewn floor of the stable, but finally he said, "If you truly care for my happiness, you'll do one more thing for me tonight." Maria hesitated, afraid of what might happen next, but she stepped closer to him. That was the only answer he needed. "You'll sit here with me and stay up a little bit longer. At least until our bottle is empty," he said, opening his hand to the space beside him. "And while we sit here, you'll call me Georg, and I'll call you Maria, and we'll pretend that the world isn't falling to pieces around us."

She knew that she should go to bed. She should close her eyes and whisper a thousand prayers to the heavens. Her heart was forgetting its lessons, opening old wounds and allowing hope the opportunity to hurt her once again, but she did not seem to mind. She did not run away from him, but rather she stepped forward and took her seat beside him, smiling tenderly as they looked out at the silvered Austrian night together.

_A/N: 1) Ahhh, I'm eternally late with this update. I have battled with this chapter. I initially thought of taking it a step further to the next phase of the story, but it ultimately did not feel like the right moment, so I scrapped about 1,500 pages of romance and saved it for another installment. I've also been frantically busy with the fun and excitement of settling into a new semester, but things seem back on the up-and-up. 2) Fun Fact: "Islands" by The xx and "Whistling Away the Dark" by Julie Andrews were playing constantly as I wrote this chapter; both songs evoke perfect tones for this installment. 3) I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. It's certainly a big transition for the story, and I hope you'll like all that's still to come. Thanks, as always, for your lovely reviews, feedback, and encouragement! –C. _


	9. Cold Water

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this work of fiction and receive no profits from this story. _

Georg opened his eyes to a dull grey sky. Whispers of fog curled through the mountains that surrounded the valley, and birds sang cheerfully to summon the sun to attention. For a moment he kept still, content to listen to this chorus of the morning and happily distracted by the spring saplings that pocked the hillside. He admired the scenery, but then he became aware of other things: the stiffness in his back, the tension in his legs, the rustle of straw as his children turned in their sleep, and the warm curve of Maria's ankle resting beneath his palm.

He did not remove his hand. He feared that the smallest movement might wake her, and he could not imagine how guilty he would feel for pulling someone out of such a peaceful rest. Her cheek was pillowed on one of the wool saddle blankets they'd found in the stable. She drew her jacket closer around her shoulders as she dreamed, unaware of the spring sunlight that touched her cheek.

He tried to trace a path back through the events of the night. He did not recall when he'd fallen asleep, but he knew that they'd stayed awake past midnight, talking and laughing and whispering uncertain predictions about the future. Though she'd tried to say goodnight earlier in the evening, she did not do it again. They talked together until their voices were hoarse with sleep and laughter, sitting side by side with their backs against the old clapboard wall of the barn.

Like the veil of fog lifting off the mountain, his memory slowly cleared. He remembered that he'd been telling her about his journeys to Italy, Greece, and Spain when she'd stifled yet another yawn, but this occasion was different because she did not apologize for her imagined rudeness. When he turned to her in the moonlight, he realized that she'd drifted to sleep, surrendering to the exhaustion and weariness that had held them captive for the better part of the day. He'd considered waking her so she might join the children on their soft bed of hay, but he resisted the impulse. He was selfish in his desire for her company, and he was unsurprised to realize how he craved the soft music of her breath harmonizing with the spring breeze and the warm weight of her shoulder leaning into him.

He'd been careful not to wake her, and he preserved the fragile silence the way a guard might stand sentry. He let her sleep and traced the thread of their conversation, recalling all that they'd said and wondering about all that it could mean. He chased his heart for minutes that became an hour, but she punctuated his thoughts with a sigh before wearily sinking down to the ground to continue her dreams.

In the fresh light of day, he was almost ashamed of himself for the events of the previous evening, but he knew that he would do it all again if given the chance. He'd risen to his feet after she drifted into a deeper sleep, and it was then that he'd retrieved the blanket and carefully slipped it under her cheek. The moment was intimate: his thumb passing over her cheek, her breath on his fingertips, the silk of her hair brushing his wrist. Trust and silence lived between them in the darkness.

The rest of the evening was a collection of disjointed memories. He must have returned to his seat by the door, and he knew that he'd stayed up a little while longer to keep watch over the family. A part of him could not escape the nagging fear that someone—or something—would come through the mountains to surprise this pastoral respite. He wondered about the uncertain tomorrows still to come, but his fears finally chased him into a restless slumber. He'd slept with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out before him, and he'd woken to find his hand on a beautiful woman's slender leg as the terrors of the night faded in the morning sunlight.

She stirred beside him, and he pulled his hand away like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. His heart raced in his chest, but Maria slept on, undisturbed by his gasp and the loss of his touch. He shook his head, trying to correct the course of his thoughts. Rising to his feet, he grimaced at the sudden stiffness in his back and his legs. The cool morning air stung his lungs, but he welcomed it with deep breaths as he stretched his muscles and stepped quietly away from his sleeping governess.

He peered into the stable and smiled. His children were all sleeping comfortably with thick blankets around their shoulders. He noticed Louisa's hand on Gretl's shoulder and the way Marta's small form curled against Liesl's frame. Friedrich's jacket had even been tucked around Brigitta's stockinged legs. Georg smiled to see how much his children were relying on each other. The days to come would be difficult, but he was heartened to know that they could lean on one another to conquer each challenge.

Wary of stirring them from the rest that would undoubtedly carry them through the day ahead, he slipped away and stepped out into the morning sunshine. Georg glanced around the perimeter of the farm, but there were no signs to suggest that anyone would interrupt his morning walk. He circled the barn and traveled across the field. Tall grass brushed against his knees, but he enjoyed the fresh smells of the countryside. Lost in his thoughts, he allowed his heart to travel back to Aigen as he wondered how this morning might look on his own lake near the mountains. He was struck by how much he would miss the villa, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of footsteps. Georg whirled around in panic to discover Louisa standing next to him.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Father," she murmured, blushing at the sight of Georg's frightened surprise. "I saw you leaving the barn. No one else is awake yet."

"Except you?" he mused.

"No one else had Marta's knee pressing into her back for most of the night," the girl answered tartly. Georg chuckled in spite of himself; while he might be grateful that his children could count on one another in their time of crisis, he was also relieved that sibling squabbles could be counted on as a reliable constant.

"My back isn't much better than yours, I suppose. I slept sitting up, which I do not recommend." He pressed the heel of his palm into the small of his back for emphasis.

"I saw Fraulein Maria sleeping on the floor. She'll probably be sore today, too." She plucked a long spring of wheat and pressed it between her fingers. "Especially since she carried Gretl most of the way yesterday."

Georg nearly winced with guilt, not realizing how tired the poor woman must have been when she submitted to his request and talked with him past midnight, but he retained his composure. Louisa barely noticed the shadow that passed over his gaze, and she was content with her thoughts as she and her father walked across the small yard. Finally, she ventured a question. "Does anyone live here?"

"I don't think so," he replied. "I've yet to see a car or carriage, and the fields are too overgrown to be fertile."

"You know how to farm?" she marveled, squinting into the sunlight.

"I know that things don't grow when there are thorns and onion sprouts in the way." His daughter chuckled, and together they walked a wide circle around the broken paddock fence. The animals ate their morning meal, sampling long threads of grass near a small pond in the pasture. "It's a shame, too, for it's a lovely spot."

"Maybe we could just stay here." She must have noticed the doubtful look that passed over her father's features. "No one would look for us if they think no one lives here."

He lifted his eyebrows in slight amusement at the suggestion. "I would imagine that a few of the soldiers are currently wondering where they've misplaced us."

He saw the disappointment in her eyes, but then the distant hum of voices in the barn caught their attention.

"They're awake." The weary disappointment in Louisa's voice made Georg laugh.

"It was bound to happen sometime, darling."

"I suppose."

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, brushing a blonde curl over her shoulder as they started back towards the barn. She nodded, drawing a deep breath as she surveyed the world around her.

"I just know that I'm going to miss all of this," she said. "The mountains, the water."

"But you do understand why we have to leave, don't you?"

She scowled, brimming with adolescent impatience, but the passion in her voice was undeniable. "Of course I understand. And I wouldn't expect us to do anything differently."

"Good." He pressed a kiss to her brow, and it was then that she offered him her mother's smile. It was humbling, and again he was reminded of the gifts his late wife had given him before he'd lost her forever. He'd listed several of them in his conversation with Maria, but he smiled at the thought that there were still so many more to be discovered and too many to ever be counted.

They returned to the barn to find Liesl and Friedrich helping the younger children straighten their clothes and fold the blankets. Georg heard the music of Maria's laughter as he climbed the steps to the barn, and he saw the young governess combing her fingers through Marta's hair with a sigh.

"I'm afraid you won't be the belle of the ball today, Marta. Not without a hairbrush."

"What about this?" Friedrich asked, stepping out of the stable stall with a thick wooden brush the size of his palm. He fingered the stiff bristles and asked if it would do.

"_That_ is for combing a horse's mane. I don't think we should use it on Marta's hair, or she might not be left with any hair to brush!"

The girl shrieked and clasped her hands over her head at the very idea, but Maria tickled her sides before urging her to sit patiently beside her once again.

"Good morning, Father," Kurt said, noticing Georg's presence in the doorway. The children brightened and greeted him with smiles, and Maria met his gaze with a shy grin before resuming her work on Marta's unruly hair.

"Did everyone sleep well?" he asked, squeezing Brigitta's shoulder as she helped Gretl with her shoes. They murmured in agreement and laughed as Georg plucked a blade of straw from the collar of Kurt's jacket, but finally Gretl asked if there would be any breakfast.

"There certainly won't be strudel and sausages," Louisa said dryly, peering in the empty bins and dusty boxes that crowded the barn.

"You shouldn't be allowed to even mention it if it can't be true," Kurt lamented. "Not when I'm this hungry."

"Your father found plenty of food in the cellar last night. It's only a shame that you children fell asleep before you could enjoy it with us," Maria mused.

"Is there any left?" Kurt asked hopefully.

"There should be. I saw a barrel of apples, and there were several wheels of cheese, too."

Friedrich and Kurt volunteered to collect the morning's rations from the cellar. Gretl reminded Georg of his promise, so he gave the boys some money to leave in the cellar as consideration for the meal. The rest of the children scampered into the yard beyond the barn doors. Maria worked quickly on Marta's hair, but the girl bounced anxiously as the sounds of her siblings' games filled the barn. She sighed in relief when Maria finally tapped her shoulder and announced that her work was finished.

Marta sprang to her feet in an instant and shouted a fumbled word of thanks to Maria before hurrying out into the sunshine. Maria laughed as she listened to the girl's frantic footsteps, but then she looked up at Georg with a weary smile. "After sleeping on this floor, I don't know that I'll ever be able to get up that quickly again."

Georg laughed and offered her his hand. She rose slowly to her feet, stifling a groan as she felt the knots in her back and thighs, but she leaned against the wall with a small sigh. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. I'm only grateful that you weren't awake this morning to see my attempt of that same maneuver."

"Oh, Captain, surely you didn't sleep on the floor, too?"

He was surprised that she did not remember the end of their night together, but he was also relieved that she had no memory of his hand resting traitorously at peace on her leg. He answered her question with a defeated nod, but she only laughed and continued to tease the tense knots in her back. "You know, Sister Berthe sleeps on a wooden board when she fears she has not given proper penance to the Lord." She winced as she stretched her legs. "I'm starting to understand why she was always so disagreeable in the morning."

"Well, I'd hardly call you 'disagreeable,' Fraulein."

She felt the warmth and body of his gaze. Her hand flitted nervously over her hair. "I'm sure I'm a sight. I should have accepted Friedrich's offer of the grooming brush."

Georg wished that he could tell her how beautiful she was. She wore no rouge or lipstick, but the morning sun was a mere matchstick in the sky when compared to the light in her eyes. The wind played tricks with her hair, but for some reason that made her seem perfect. In that moment, she reminded him of the girl who'd stumbled into his home so many months ago, breathless and beautiful as she emerged from the shadows of the ballroom to study him with quiet wonder. She looked at him now with that same careful gaze, but the questions were gone from her eyes.

She was wild and lovely on that cool spring morning. He knew that she'd blush or shy away if he told her what he thought, so he said nothing. Instead he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, allowing his finger to brush the curve of her jaw. As he anticipated, she blushed, but she never took her eyes away from his. She simply smiled.

Marta's distant shriek pierced the silence to startle them both. Maria ducked her chin to her shoulder, laughing nervously, but then she peered around the corner to ensure that nothing was amiss. She saw that the children had created an impromptu picnic for their breakfast. A wheel of cheese and an armful of apples were scattered atop Friedrich's jacket on the grass, and they savored their meal with laughter and jokes. Despite the peacefulness of this scene, she also saw Marta scrambling up from the dusty ground before charging at Kurt with her hands scrunched into small fists.

"Kurt just shoved Marta, and being an accomplished warrior like her father, Marta is now defending herself by beating her brother with his own hat," Maria said, narrating the scene. She watched a look of dismay take hold of Georg's features but pressed his arm in quiet assurance. "I'll see to them."

She was gone before he could protest, and she smiled to feel the warm sun on her face as she hurried across the barnyard. The children turned to her in expectation when she clapped her hands for their attention and joined their circle near the paddock.

"Children, surely you can eat breakfast at a farm without acting like the animals," she sighed. "Now, Marta, what seems to be the trouble?"

Marta's eyes shone with unshed tears. "I was eating breakfast, and Kurt pushed me on the ground and now my hands are all dirty."

"He'd sliced himself a piece of cheese, but she took it from him without asking," Brigitta said evenly, ever patient in reporting all that she'd seen.

Brigitta's assertion seemed to make Marta's blood boil in frustration. Certain that another argument would soon erupt, Maria placed her hand on Marta's shoulder and suggested that they try to clean her hands and dress.

"There's a fountain on the other side of the fence," Friedrich said, beaming brightly. "I saw it when I fetched the food."

"And you kept that to yourself all this time?" Maria teased. "I've spent most of the morning wishing I would make a bathtub appear right in the middle of this very pasture."

"It's just a water pump and a faucet," Kurt said flatly. Maria's hyperbole was lost on him, but she ruffled his hair before scooping Marta into her arms and starting towards the other side of the field. The girl's arm curled around her shoulders, but she waved at her father as they walked around the corner of the barn. Maria met his gaze with a small smile, but even a passing glance in his direction told her that there was still much left to be said between them.

Marta chattered aimlessly, but Maria was distracted. Her thoughts drifted back to the barn, back to the memory of Georg's touch and the secrets in his heart. Parts of the previous evening were hazy in her memory, but she clearly recalled the whispered confession she'd offered in the darkness. _"How can I be certain of that life, the one I wanted so very much before, when I'm here, as you say, 'sitting in the middle of nowhere with you,' and there's no other place I'd rather be?"_

In the bright and unforgiving light of the morning, she wished she'd had the courage to wait for his response. She'd changed the conversation before he could answer her in the moonlight, but now she found that she was desperate to know what might have happened next. She was slipping away from the promise she'd made to herself all those months ago when she'd returned from the Abbey and learned of his engagement to Elsa. Sitting alone in her bedroom, she'd wept silently until her body simply surrendered to the injuries of her heart. Laying alone, staring up at the ceiling, she tried to stitch her heart back together with the promise that she would not love him anymore. She'd sworn that she'd let the sun set on whatever dreams she'd created from the memory of his smile and the music of his laughter. She'd be alone again, safe with herself, protected by her faith and her command over her own heart.

She'd broken her vow a hundred different times. She broke it every time he smiled at her, every time he caught her eye or lifted her name in conversation. She lied to herself with abandon, allowing herself to imagine that he shared her same dreams and wanted nothing more than to feel her in his arms. In so many ways, it was no different than the games of make-believe she'd played with the girls in the nursery. She wanted nothing more than to believe that he loved her, and in the moments when she forgot her promise, she surrendered happily to the fiction.

Promises aside, she knew that something had changed in the last few days. She believed there was a reason behind his broken engagement, a reason why he'd asked her to stay with him the night before, a reason why he'd pulled her into his arms with such breathless abandon by the shores of Lake Lans. She catalogued these moments in her memory, clinging to them with reverent hope as she waited to see what the new day might bring. She remembered how his voice had curled around her name in the moonlight, and she wondered what he must have been thinking when she made that startling confession.

"The water's cold," Marta said, recoiling from the steady stream that spilled over her palms. Stirred from her thoughts, Maria clucked her tongue and placed her own hands beneath the water. It was cool and cleansing, and she smiled brightly at Marta before suggesting that she did not know what she was missing.

"When I was a girl, I brought pails of water up to our house from a pump just like this one," Maria said, dampening her handkerchief before washing away the mud and dirt on Marta's hands.

"You didn't have a sink?"

"Not back then," Maria said. "So this is like going back in time for me."

"Was your farm like this one?" Marta asked, looking around the small basin of the ridge and studying the farmland.

"Very much like this."

Eager to explore, Marta began to follow the small dirt path that led away from the pump. Maria splashed a bit of water on her face before catching up with the child. Marta's hand slipped into her own, but the girl sighed cheerfully as she listened to the distant sound of her siblings' laughter. "I didn't mean to fight with Kurt this morning. I know Father doesn't want us to be angry at each other."

"He doesn't," Maria said. "I think we're all tired of people being cross with one another."

Marta looked up at her governess. A question lingered in her eyes. "Do you think the bad people will find us here?"

Maria's heart broke at the simple sound of the question, but she smiled with honeyed reassurance. "No, I don't think so. And we won't be here too much longer."

"We're not staying here?"

"No," Maria replied. "Did you want to?"

"I like the straw bed," the girl grinned, offering a shy toothless smile as she plucked a few leaves from one of the trees.

"I'm sure the farmer will want to use his barn again when he returns," Maria said. "He might not like having nine surprise guests when he's trying to put his horses to bed at night."

Marta considered the explanation, and Maria was grateful that she did not challenge it. The distant sound of the children's laughter grew louder, and for the second time that morning, Marta listened with a look of wistful longing. Maria smiled, happy to see that the morning's grievances had all been forgotten. "Go on. I'll join you in a moment."

Without further bidding, Marta ran to rejoin her siblings as Maria continued down the narrow footpath. She was lost in her thoughts when she suddenly entered a small clearing, and the breath caught in her throat when she realized where she was standing.

Ten marble headstones stood in a row. Some were polished and new, but others were well-worn with age. They leaned in towards each other like old friends, and handfuls of wilted flowers slumped over each of the stones. The grass around them was wild and unruly, but these were not the details that caught her attention. Maria was looking at the Hebrew engravings on each of the stones.

She crossed herself, realizing that she was standing on holy ground, but the sudden sound of footsteps in the distance made her gasp in surprise. Georg walked towards her with a smile, but the look on her face quieted the laughter in his eyes. She watched him survey the small hamlet of the forest, and she witnessed the moment when he realized what was happening.

Wordlessly, he stood beside her and studied the stones in the farmer's family plot. His hand reached for hers, and she allowed him to take it. She did not feel the familiar thrill that often accompanied his touch; she felt only the warmth of his touch and the assurance that someone else understood her thoughts.

"I can't tell how old the stones are," she said softly. "The farmer might not…he might not be here." Georg said nothing in reply, so she talked to fill the silence. "I knew it was strange that the farm was so empty. The fences are broken, and no farmer would ever leave like that on purpose. Not with so many animals to care for." The words came fast, crowded by the silent sob that filled her throat. It was a painful sensation, but it did not match the agony of realizing what had been lost in this serene corner of Innsbruck.

"They might have escaped. They could have easily slipped over the border before things…escalated." He regretted the word; it was cold and detached, but he also knew that he could not bear to voice what was truly happening in Austria.

"I want to believe that. But I know what really happened to the Rosens, just as I know where Franz was the night of the burning in Residenzplatz. He said he was visiting his brother, but…I know." She pressed her fingers to her lips before looking back at the farmhouse, now a small feature on the emerald horizon. "I know that this family didn't leave the country. Not if they're this close to all the soldiers in Innsbruck. They're not visiting friends, and they didn't cross the border." She met his gaze, and he was wounded by the sadness he saw in her eyes. "And you know it, too."

"Yes," he said softly. "I do."

She drew a breath and looked up at the mountains that embraced the valley. The scene was painfully beautiful. The trees were tender with the young age of spring, and no painter could have ever captured the shade of blue that filled the sky. The clouds were gone, the sun was high, and perfumed flowers filled the air around them.

"It's all a little bit less now," she said, turning to take it all in. "The Germans have…spoiled it. All of this."

He nodded quietly. He recalled his conversation with Louisa and the longing way she'd talked of staying at the farm forever. He'd indulged the idea earlier that morning, but now the very notion felt like a sin. Georg had never met the man who owned the farm, but the loss of his presence was painful and acute. He could not help but think of the man who would never again see the shadow of these great mountains. The finality was jarring, and the remembered tang of the farmer's wine now tasted like ash on Georg's tongue.

He glanced at Maria but discovered that her head was bowed in prayer. Tears touched her cheeks, but her fingers clutched the cross that hung around her neck. Her lips shaped the words, silently yet desperately. Georg closed his eyes and joined her in prayer. In the years since Agathe's death, he'd rarely turned to the Lord for assistance, but in the months since the Nazis first marched on Vienna, he'd found that he could not help but beg for guidance from the heavens.

Maria lifted her head. Speaking softly, as though she were making a confession, she murmured, "I prayed for the farmer and his family. I'll pray for them every night for the rest of my life. But I also thanked God for…cold water and the mud on Marta's hands. For the way Friedrich smiled when he told me about that silly water pump." She brushed away her tears. "I thanked him for my family."

Georg said nothing, for words were not needed. Nothing was needed. He merely clasped her hand a little tighter. That simple gesture carried more weight than a kiss, a whisper, an embrace, or a hundred aching tears. He understood her heart, and that was all the certainty she needed.

"I'd like to leave now," she said quietly.

"I know."

She glanced back at the stones before meeting his gaze. "We shouldn't tell the children about this."

"No," he said. "Of course not."

She glanced at the stones once again before starting back down the path toward the barn. Georg's hand fell to her waist as he helped her over the roots and stones. By the time Maria and Georg rejoined the children in the yard, they'd found their smiles and dried their tears. They left the farm within the hour, bound for the south as they left a pristine pantheon of emerald mountains in their wake.

_A/N: 1) Soooo….hey? Sorry to the nth degree for my delay in posting this story. School got in the way, then I got distracted by "House of Cards," and then school got even more in the way, and then I had midterms followed by two weeks of writer's block. Anywho, I'm here now. I have a final tomorrow, so I guess I decided, "What better time to write a story than when I should be studying?" I hope this chapter was worth the wait. It's very much a transition to lead us into the final chapters of the story. 2) A motivating factor that helped me write? I was studying with Pandora on and "Boo" by Pinback came on. I literally had to close my textbook and write the first five paragraphs of this chapter at that moment. I love music. 3) Thanks so much to everyone who has commented, favorited, and followed this story. I see the notifications in my inbox—often while in class—and they always make me smile and encourage me to keep writing. I appreciate your enthusiasm and encouragement, and truly can't say it enough. –C. _


End file.
